


Ripple Effect

by DaftHappiness



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Mates, Merman Marco, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaftHappiness/pseuds/DaftHappiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean’s lived his whole life by one philosophy: ‘Seeing is believing.’ He’s always found the stories he’d read to his sister before bed ridiculous, and scoffed at anyone who could be fooled into believing such nonsense, but when a young, handsome, bespeckled mythical creature makes his way into his life, their fates becoming intertwined, Jean isn’t sure he can believe anything anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man of the Myth

I've never particularly liked fairy tales, not even when I was a kid. Something about them just never sat quite right with me, I think maybe it was the little voice in the back of my head constantly telling me what a load of bull they all were that ruined it for me. It wasn't only fairy tales, mind you, just about anything you couldn't prove to me with a photograph was something I didn't believe in, Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny included. (Though I'll admit it, the Loch Ness Monster through me for a loop for a while.) My little sister on the other hand, she loved 'em. Every night she'd ask me to read her one of her some short story from this huge story book she'd gotten as a birthday present a while back. Funny thing was, the stories she asked me to read over and over weren't the ones about princesses and knights in shining armor like most little girls; her favorites were the ones about half-human half-something else mythical creatures, things like the fae, centaurs, satyrs, selkies, and mermaids. The things I found the most ridiculously fictitious were the things she couldn't get enough stories of, go figure.  
'Seeing is believing' is a quote I've lived my life by, it's probably one of the main reasons I chose to major in photojournalism. A lot of people thought it was a weird fit for me, they all thought I would go into the army or police or something, become a businessman at the very least, and I guess I can't blame them, but I like what I do. I get to go out and collect photographs and put them together to tell a story honestly and accurately. There's no bullshit, just straight up facts. No fairy tales here.  
Well, I mean, up until this point at least.  
Let me set the scene for you: It was early morning on a Thursday, I walking on the beach with my camera slung around my neck. Trust me, this day certainly didn't look like any fairy tale I'd ever read. The sun was not shining bright and warm overhead, the beach beneath my feet was not soft and silky, nature did not sing a joyous tune; in fact it was just after dawn, and the sky was blanketed in clouds and fog rolled across the ground so dense every time I breathed in it felt like I was like gulping down a mouthful of sea water. The only noise other than the waves crashing to the shore was the sound of broken shells and gravely sand crunching under my feet. The breeze that blew across my skin was pretty damn cold too, but the ground I walked on still held some of the heat from yesterday, so I continued on barefoot, in a stupid attempt to soak up some of its warmth. The day was far from ideal, but then again the weather isn't what's important here.  
What's important is that while I sauntered aimlessly along the fog-covered beach, I met one of the Merfolk completely by chance.  
As I was wondering along, a formation of rocks jutting out of the sea came into view through the curtain of fog, which just so happened to be where he had been lounging. You see, no one goes to the beach when the sky is clouded over and fog hangs in the air, it's just not something that people do. Hell, I was only out here because I'd thought the fog would make for interesting photographs when caught in the light of the sunrise (which I couldn't even see, by the way). He'd probably been betting on this fact when he swam into the shallows and pulled himself up onto the rocks, and luckily the sound of the waves crashing in between them concealed the crunching of my feet until it was too late.  
He didn't match the scene that surrounded him, not at all, in fact if I didn't know better I would say it was almost as if he were purposely trying to make himself stand out. You see, everything within a about a mile radius was painted a dull blue or cool grey: the rocks, the sand, the waves, the mist, everything. Even the light filtering through the cloud cover came out dim and lackluster, but he most certainly was not. The first thing I noticed of all things was his russet skin, and how warm it looked against the scenery, even the scales of his fin that worked their way up his torso and appeared in sporadic patches all over the rest of him looked like they'd been skinned straight off a red snapper. It was kind of incredible really, how something living in the cold northern oceans could boast such vibrant colors. Speaking of his pigmentation, like I should mention that this kid had freckles. Like a lot of freckles. I specifically remember being dumbfounded by the idea of anything with scales having freckles, but there he was. I don't know why I thought this was so weird, I mean there's spotted seals and octopus and of course there's spotted fish, so it would make sense for this merperson to have spots of his own, but I digress. The freckles, they stood out in large clusters mainly on his cheeks and shoulders, but small dustings of stray marks could be seen all over his body, including the scales of his tail.  
I have to admit, he was kind of beautiful.  
He was also kind of a mythical creature.  
I don't know why I didn't question that he was a real flesh and blood mermaid- merman- and not just some kid in a costume, but at the time it didn't occur to me that he could be anything but real. Maybe it was the sight combines with the very real smell of brine, or the way his scales really shimmered in the light, or how they moved so naturally. Maybe it was because I can't imagine a guy up at the asscrack of dawn just to go out and dress up like a mermaid. Maybe it was stupid not to question it, but like I said, 'seeing is believing.'  
I'm not going to lie, my next move probably wasn't the best one I could have chosen, but I place the blame entirely on being a kid brought up in 21st century. Very slowly, very STUPIDLY, I slid my iPhone (not the very expensive camera hanging around my neck, but my IPHONE) out of my pocket, opened the camera app and snapped a photo. As if that wasn't dumb enough, I didn't have the damn thing on silent so the annoying snapping noise blared across the airwaves along with the ridiculously bright flash through the dim light. His reaction to this whole thing was near instantaneous. For one single moment his face turned towards me, brown eyes appearing out of his dark hair and wide in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. Just a second later he was gone; torso turned over his hips and powerful tail pushing him back off into the waves. The last thing I saw was his red tail fin slapping the waves has he disappeared into the depths.  
The whole ordeal probably took place over the course of five seconds, give or take, and I was left standing there on the beach slack-jawed and arm still extended in photo-taking position. I don't know how long I stood like that but eventually it occurred to me that the only way I could be sure of what I just saw was to check the phone in my hand. Honestly, I was a little afraid to look. I was half expecting the photograph to not have taken, or to see nothing in it but the pile of rocks, but when the picture loaded I could clearly see the russet merman staring back at me just as he had been moments before.  
And when I say 'clearly' I mean that I could clearly make out a vague humanoid shape through the intense fog coverage and glare form the flash. Frankly, the photograph was awful, but it was all I needed to assure me that I had in fact just met a fish person and the experience wasn't just the effects of accidentally inhaling some sort of air-borne hallucinogen.

 

Oddly enough just a couple hours later I was sitting in this little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop called Cafe Maria with a few good friends discussing the upcoming warm front that was going to bring clear skies and beautiful weather and how we were going to celebrate the lingering cold from winter finally thawing out. Any thoughts I had about the merman had been put completely out of my head for the time being, simply because I didn't have the time to waste thinking about whether or not I'd met a mythical being today. All I had to prove I'd actually seen him at all was an incredibly blurry picture and a five-second splice of memory; it was so much easier just to believe I'd been hallucinating from sleep deprivation or something.  
To my immediate left sat the Winsome Threesome- Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlert. Mikasa was sipping quietly at some chai tea, smiling fondly as Eren and Armin chattered excitedly about the possibility of setting up a bonfire on the beach. To my right sat Connie Springer and Sasha Braus, who whole-heartedly agreed to this idea. Mikasa and I sat quietly as the two pairs bounced ideas back and forth from one another until suddenly Connie was talking about inviting everyone we could for some huge beginning of summer blow-out party. It was about then that I felt the need to step in and bring him back down planet Earth.  
“Woah woah woah, I thought it was only going to be us, just chilling on the beach.” I interrupted Connie mid-sentence. I didn't like where this was headed. I didn't like being around big crowds of people for very long, so honestly the less populated our get-together could be, the more fun I would probably have. “None of us have enough money to rent a tent or provide enough food and shit for all the people you're talking about, and I'm pretty sure not many people would be interested if the main event of the evening is sitting around staring at a fire pit.”  
Connie shook his head, “Nah man, it'll be great! If we get Ymir and Christa to come we can probably have Ymir play the guitar and Christa sing something. I heard they've been working on songs together, and you know Christa has the voice of an angel. Some other people may even join in too. And people can bring their own drinks and snacks, we won't have to provide a thing. Trust me, after this winter of being cooped up inside everyone will totally want to come hang at an open-air party out on the sand.”  
Armin wrinkled his nose, “Why don't we just have the party inside somewhere then? We wouldn't have to worry about keeping close to the fire for warmth or getting bit by sand mites and mosquitoes.”  
“It's been pretty warm at night recently, Armin” Eren pointed out, “Especially with the heat wave rolling in, I doubt we'll have to worry about freezing to death. Worst case scenario, we layer up. It'll be fine.”  
“And we can set up tiki torches all around to keep the bugs away. It's probably a good idea anyway to keep them out of the food.” Sasha said eagerly.  
“It would be a good chance to see Annie, Reiner, and Berthold again. We've hardly seen them all semester.” Mikasa added.  
“Then it's settled!” Connie said, slamming a fist down on the table for effect, “Bonfire beach party this Friday, a mile south of the wharf. Bring your own drinks and concessions. Possible live music from the lovely lesbian duo, Ymir and Christa.” He finished, winking. Clearly he thought he was hilarious.  
I rolled my eyes. Sure, gratuitous amounts of loud college kids weren't really my thing, but the party would be taking place at my favorite place in the world and my closest friends would still be hanging around. I could at least try to have a little fun. It was probably good for me every now and again.

 

As was expected, the party blew.  
I mean, don't get me wrong, for other people it probably was awesome, it just didn't really appeal to me. To many people I didn't know, too noisy and chaotic, and Ymir only liked to play country and folk songs (I'm more of a alternative/prog rock guy myself). All of my friends were too occupied with other people to strike up an extended conversation with me, though I didn't blame them. They spent a lot of time with me as it was, thankfully our differing majors didn't keep us apart, but they also had friends from their own classes so the party was really dedicated to seeing the people they didn't see as often. Unlike them though, I didn't make many friends within my own major. I never really liked holding a bunch of trivial friendships, didn't really see the point if maintaining a relationship that didn't have the possibility of becoming more. Rather, I liked having a small group of close friends. It was just easier.  
I tried sticking near Connie and Sasha for a while, Connie was in liberal arts and Sasha attended culinary school, so the people that flocked to them were often people I could recognize, but the conversations taking place around me never seemed to catch my interest, so eventually I just faded out to seek out something else to do. Closer I spotted the Winsome Threesome along with Christa, Berthold, and two people, a man and a woman, I didn't recognize. I later found out the woman was a professor of Christa and Bert's, Hanji, though they treated her far more like a fellow student. Next to her sat a man, Levi, who looked entirely out of place at a party like this. His face was passive, arms crossed over his chest and dressed a little too fancy for a party on the beach. Despite his disinterested appearance, however, Eren had his full attention turned towards him, doing his best to hold his attention for whatever reason. Mikasa and Armin sat passively to the side, chiming in every once in a while but for the most part sat roasting marshmallows and just enjoying the atmosphere. I sat near them for a while, but I knew nothing about the medical topics Christa, Bert, and Hanji were discussing, and Eren was talking with Levi about his interest in a major in advertising (I think Levi taught in the business department.) which I had zero interest in, so eventually I let out a small sigh and got up, giving the lame excuse of grabbing something to drink when Armin questioned me. Honestly I just wanted to get away for a while. I was feeling stifled, encroached upon, I needed to get away and breathe for a second. So I set off in the opposite direction of the wharf, taking my shoes off along the way so I could feel the coarse sand in between my toes.  
Eren had been right, the night was cool, but not overly so; if anything it was refreshing to be able to walk as I pleased without the burden of a heavy winter jacket. Once away from the party, I could really appreciate the nice weather we had been trying so hard to celebrate, and why we had picked the beach as our venue. The sound of crashing waves, the pungent yet calming scent of brine in the air, the sand underfoot, the sky had even cleared up considerably from that morning, no traces of the eerie mist remained.  
As soon as I recalled the fog from the morning though, it wasn't long before I began to remember the events that had transpired because of it. I sighed, if been working to keep myself busy all day so I hadn't had time to think about it, but now that I was all alone, on the same beach no less, I was forced to contemplate what had really happened, if I really had seen what I thought I saw. Of course, it would have been so easy to just say I was going crazy, that it had just been a trick my own mind played on me, but the photograph on my phone begged to differ. Vague as it was, the figure could still be seen in the fog, though I doubted if anyone else would be able to see what the figure was supposed to be, what I thought I saw.  
My feet continued on their imagined path as I was lost in thought, taking me along without my noticing until suddenly something very noticeably crunched my bare foot, sending a sudden shooting pain up my left leg.  
"OW, SHIT," I howled, jerking my leg back in surprise, which caused me to ungraciously crash to the ground below. I'd cut my left foot, that much was for certain; I could feel the blood flowing across my skin as little spasms of pain lanced it's way up my calves, and by the bright light of the moon I could see the plethora of little lacerations that covered the underside of my foot. The cuts weren't deep enough that I would need stitches, at least I knew that much, but they weren't shallow enough to allow for me to walk without pain. Still spitting a string of curses, I tore the sleeves off my shirt, knowing it was the only thing I had in hand to stop the bleeding and keep the sand out of the cuts as I hobbled back to the party. Stripping pieces as I went along, I carefully wrapped up my wounded foot until I was satisfied with the amount of covering it provided, although there was no avoiding the red patches bleeding through the fabric. Finally, with my shirt successfully ruined and the bleeding somewhat under control, I turned my attention to the cause of my pain.  
“The fuck is this?” Sitting in the sand before me seemed to be nothing more than a pile of shimmering cloth, aleady a dusky red, now covered with flecks of my own blood. I was dumbfounded as to how a fucking tablecloth could have sliced open my foot like it had, so I carefully took the fabric between two fingers, and pulled it to my face so I could examine it more closely. When I picked it up, it felt fairly heavy and shifted in abnormal ways; upon closer inspection I saw that instead of a solid swatch of fabric, the cloth was instead made of hundreds and hundreds of tiny scale-like facets, like old european armor or something. Each singular scale was surprisingly sturdy, curved into a slight point at the end, which explained my cutting myself on it. The only thing it didn't explain was what the hell it was and why someone had just left it lying in the sand at night.  
Before I had the chance to question it further, a quiet voice appeared out of the quiet behind me, uttering only one small phrase: “Oh no.”  
My head snapped back to look behind me, and standing there was a tall and tan be-speckled young man, looking at me with eyes and face contorted in horror.


	2. A Moron Falls Prey to Fabric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean unknowingly ensnares himself in a trap of sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sure this chapter was going to be the death of me, I really was. I literally sat for days trying to think of the right words for Marco to say here. Turns out all I needed was a four hours car ride to get down to business. Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter. I plan on updating on this blog now rather than my main one so keep an eye out here for updates ; u ;

"Oh no."  
The guy standing behind me seriously looked like he was about to throw up, I figured maybe he had a problem with blood. I had to admit, my foot- cut up and wrapped in cloth that was quickly darkening with blood stains- wasn't exactly a pretty sight.  
"Hey man, I'm okay. It's not really that bad, just got cut on this thing is all." I said, holding up the strange fabric with what I hoped was a reassuring smirk.  
"Oh no," he repeated, suddenly moving towards me at a rapid pace, falling to his knees beside me and reaching for the cloth. "Quick, give it back! Let go of it before-"  
As soon as his fingers made contact with the fabric he let out a yelp and jerked his hand back as if he'd been burned. He looked down at the retracted hand, eyes wide is shock. "This can't be happening."  
"Um, what?" At the sound of my voice, his gaze snapped back to my face, looking as scared and confused as I felt. I was hopelessly lost here. Despite my sitting before him, bleeding through strips of teeshirt, this kid seemed concerned only with the thing I held in my hand. He was oddly unwilling to take it from my grasp through, and again I thought maybe it was a thing with blood. It wasn't exactly my fault but I had bled all over the thing. "Hey, look, sorry for stepping on this and-er-bleeding all over it. If you want I can go wash it out for you after I get my foot taken care of, or you can just take it and-"  
"I can't." He interrupted in a low, quiet voice.  
"What?"  
"I said I can't." He repeated, louder this time, "I can't take it back."  
"Dude, calm down. The blood will come out, I promise-"  
"No!" He nearly screamed this time, but seemed to catch himself, shaking his head quickly a few times as if to clear it. After a few moments of relative silence he began again, calmer this time, "I can't take it, because it's yours now."  
I quirked an eyebrow, incredulous towards what he'd just said. It wasn't as if I wanted this thing- whatever it was. I opened my mouth to tell him, but before I could get a word out, he held up a hand to silence me.  
"Wait, please, let me just..." He took a deep breath, "I really don't know how to explain this to you, I can hardly imagine you'll believe me even if I do, but... I mean, I guess there's no avoiding it now."  
I was still completely lost, but I held my tongue, for now at least, as he tried to figure out what to say to me.  
"Ok, so first thing's first. Please, please don't freak out, okay? Just keep in mind that I know exactly how absurd and ridiculous and straight up crazy everything I'm about to say is, but I promise that every word of it is the truth.” He took a deep breath then, and then dove headfirst into hands-down the most unbelievable story I'd ever heard.  
“They used to teach these things, you know. Grandparents and parents would pass down the stories of the fey to every generation, telling them the little information they knew about us. I wish it was still like that, I wouldn't have to explain all tis to you then. I don't know why they stopped, honestly, it's not as if we disappeared.” He pursed his lips then, looking down at the sand beneath us with crease forming between his eyebrows, but went on before allowing my thoughts to catch up with me. “That thing you're holding right there? It's called a sea-skin. It's the skin of a merperson; the scales they wear when they live in the sea. Merfolk, they're kind of like snakes in a way. They have the ability to shed their sea-skins and walk the land in human form, in their second-skins. Unlike snakes though, merfolk have the ability to slip back into their sea-skin should they so choose. It's wonderful really, being able to experience both worlds like that, but there is a catch.”  
“You see, merfolk only have one sea-skin. They can't just don new scales whenever they want to return to the ocean- they have to slip back into the same skin they shed before. As you can imagine, this makes the merfolk very attached to their sea-skins, and I don't mean just that the skin is very important to them, I mean that merfolk are physically and mentally bound to their scales through some sort of old magic. Who ever holds their sea-skin holds ownership of the merperson's life.”  
“The magic that binds the merfolk to their sea-skins is cruel, really, because there are rules; rules that are so ingrained in the lives of the merfolk that they are incapable of disobeying them even if they wished to. Of course, they're designed with the intent of ensuring the survival of the species, which is all well and good, but it's all very unfair, how little control they have once they lose possession of their sea skins, because just like every other species on this planet the main purpose in the life of a merperson is to reproduce- to carry on the bloodline. They live their lives in the ocean for the most part, but must mate with someone of the human species- it's how they pass down the abilities to shift from life in the sea to land through every generation.  
“I'm sure you're aware of the implications that must come with trying to convince a human to mate with someone who is, to put it lightly, less than human. There's a reason bestiality is so frowned upon, you know, it just goes against the general flow of nature to mate with something not of your own species, that's why humans find the idea so appalling. But nature made the merfolk just the same as it did all other species, created a way to get around the natural pattern of the world: it made it so a merperson is bound, body and soul, to whoever claims their sea-skin, whether they are aware of it or not. The magic of the sea-skin, it gives you no choice, not for the mortals, and not for the merfolk, the magic is binding and absolute. Whoever takes the scales into their arms is the person destined to become the mate of the merperson who shed them.”  
His gaze slid back up to my face then, and I could see a sort of unspoken apology that lie within them as he said the words I somehow knew were coming: “My name is Marconas, Marco for short, of the North Atlantic sea. I am a merman, and you are holding my sea-skin.”  
He was quiet then, carefully studying my face with quiet concern as I tried to deal with the information that he'd just presented me with. I realized at some point during his story, my mouth had fallen open and I'd just been gaping at him the whole time. Quickly, I snapped my mouth shut and swallowed hard, trying to find some sort of relief for my throat that suddenly felt like a desert, and then looked down at the fabric- the sea-skin – I still held in my hand. I wanted to drop it, wanted to throw it in the ocean, wanted to get it away from me, but I couldn't seem to let it go, no matter how much I wanted to.  
“You're joking, right?” I said when I finally found my vocal cords, “This has to be a fucking joke. Either that or you're crazy. Maybe both.” I said the words but my voice wavered with uncertainty. Everything he'd said to me, from start to finish, was absolutely insane, I would have been crazy to believe a word of it.  
The problem was that I did.  
Because suddenly I remembered who he was.  
Staring at the string of scales I held in my hands, a dusky red with a sprinkling of darker spots dotted here and there, I knew I'd seen them somewhere before, and then when I proceeded to look back at the boy sitting before me, dark hair and tan skin, dotted here and there with freckles, there was no way to deny it.  
He was the merman I'd seen that morning.  
Which meant he was real, that this was real, this was all real.  
It was too much. I had to leave. I had to get out of here. I had to get back to the party, back to people, normal people who weren't half fish.  
“I have to go.” I whispered, doing my best to get to my feet. It wasn't all that easy, what with my foot still being all cut up.  
“H-hey! Wait!” Marco stammered, shooting to his feet with arms out to catch me as I stumbled.  
I gasped as his arms wrapped around my shoulders to keep me steady, and I could feel him stiffen beside me as well. I don't think either of us were prepared for the feeling that came with our bare skin brushing against each other for the first time, I don't think I could have been prepared even if I had known. The moment he touched me, it was like the whole world shifted beneath me, inside of me. The mere touch of his arms against me released a catharsis of emotions I didn't know I was capable of feeling, all of them pleasantly warm and willing to envelop me in their embrace. When my eyes flashed over to Marco I knew he was experiencing the exact same thing; he was looking down at me as if I were the only thing in the world that mattered, a look so intense it made me shiver.  
“My mate...” He breathed in wonder, bringing a hand up to touch my face.  
At the sound of the words from his lips whatever magic was working its way between us was disrupted and suddenly everything snapped back into focus.  
“No. No.” I said firmly, swatting his hand away and staggering back from his grip, “Don't call me that, I am not your fucking mate.”  
Marco blinked several times, clearly stunned by the events that had just transpired. He looked like he hadn't any more clue as to what had just happened than I did. “I...I don't know you by any other name yet.” He said, apologetically, eyebrows pulling together as if he were hurt by my actions.  
The pained look on his face made my stomach twist, but I tried to ignore it. “Jean. My name is Jean.”  
“Jean,” he whispered, so soft it was probably only meant for him to hear. A second later his mouth pressed into a straight line and he spoke my name aloud, “Jean, we need to get you back to the party, and better yet, back home. Your foot is hurt and you are in pain, it needs to be treated.”  
“I know, I know.” I said, suddenly agitated, “I was about to do that before you appeared and sprung all this fairy tail shit on me. Now if you'll just take your damn scales back I can-”  
“Jean” He said patiently, “I told you, I can't take the sea-skin from you. Even if I could, you probably couldn't let it go if you tried. It's yours now, you're bound to it just as much as I am you.”  
I clenched my fist around the string of scales in my hand, angry because I knew he was right. I'd been trying to make myself get rid of the damn thing ever since he'd told me all this crap, my hands just wouldn't let it go. “Fine, fine. Ok, so I have to keep it. That doesn't mean I have to keep you too, does it?” I spat.  
Marco look as if I'd kicked him straight in the stomach, the look on his face suggested he may have preferred that. “Jean,” he said quietly, “I need you to understand this, please. So long as you have possession of my skin, I can only stay so far away from you for so long now. I'm tethered to you, and there's only so much room the rope will allow between us.”  
I was nearly shaking with rage at that point, just about ready to start screaming before Marco beat me to it. “I know you're angry with me right now Jean, but I promise, this wasn't supposed to happen this way. You weren't supposed to find my skin, I wasn't supposed to trap you. None of that matters right now though. It physically pains me to see you hurting yourself by standing on that foot because like it or not your general safety and well-being are my top priority now. We can figure out what we're gonna do about all this magic business later but for right now I'm begging you. I can't see any other options other than for you to let me help you, so please, please let me assist you in getting home and attending to your wounds.”  
As mad as I was at the whole situation, Marco was right. Trying to limp back to my car on my own would take forever, given the distance I had walked from the beach party, not to mention ll the pain it would cause me. I could already feel the gains of damp sand rubbing against my raw skin like sandpaper, I didn't want to imagine how it would feel after walking all that way, so I begrudgingly, I allowed Marco to sling my arm over his shoulders to support my left side, doing my best to ignore the tingly feeling that the close contact brought on.  
I found that the warm glow-y sensation that came along with being too close to him felt a lot like anger if I just kept shouting through it.


	3. Resignation and Fortitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean realizes his entrapment isn't just something that he can walk away from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo… I got a little stuck here, really slowed me down. I’m thinking I need to set a day that I make myself update. So if you read this story, please let me know what day you would like that to happen! As always, thank you for reading!

The trek back to the party was spent in relative silence, Marco didn't try to say anything more to me as he assisted me in limping along the beach, which was probably for the best. The quiet gave me time to cool off and wrap my head around what had just happened and what I was going to do now. Marco and I were bonded, as much as I wanted to I really couldn't deny it when all of a sudden it felt like there was a cord attached to my chest, stretched taught like a rubber band and thrumming the closer I got to Marco.  
I didn't like it, but it was there nonetheless.  
Which meant taking my anger out on Marco would be a really dick move on my part, because when I thought about it it occurred to me that Marco was just as stuck here as I was. He hadn't meant for me to find his skin, he probably didn't mean for anyone to find it tonight. He'd just been strolling around on the beach when suddenly a stranger stepped on his sea-skin and bound him. Apparently forever. His whole future was taken away as much as mine was; he's probably been waiting for some pretty, charming, charismatic marine biologist to shove his scale on, but instead, by some twist of fate he got stuck with me. The thought made my heart throb.  
While I was lost in thought we arrived at the edge of the glow cast by the flickering light of the torches. Armin was the first to spot us, standing up immediately with concern written all over his face.  
"Jean!" He gasped, jogging over to meet us, "What happened? Are you okay?!"  
"I stepped on some asshole's glass bottle when I was walking down the beach in the dark and it just shattered under my fucking foot. Sliced it up pretty bad, but it doesn't hurt too much. I was trying to wrap it up when Marco here found me and helped me hobble back here." I lied smoothly. I didn't like lying to Armin, really he was one if the only people who made me feel guilty when I told half truths to get out of things, but if I tried I tell him the truth it isn't like he'd believe that version of the story.  
Armin's eyes shifted over to Marco, is if just noticing he was there. "Oh! Marco, yeah I remember we talked earlier, right? Thank you for helping Jean."  
I looked up at Marco quizzically, wondering what the hell he was doing here around my friends before finding me, but he didn't look back at me before replying with a smile, "I couldn't exactly ignore this pitiful creature , but I'm gonna go take him home so we can clean out his cuts. I don't think he needs stitches but the sand up in there probably isn't a good thing."  
"Yeah, good idea. Ok." Armin said looking back to me, "If you need anything just call, we'll be here. I hope it isn't too bad."  
"Thanks Armin." I said, ruffling my hand right hand through his shaggy blonde hair, "I'll let you know if I have to get it amputated."  
Armin must have decided that I was okay after all, because his face broke out in a grin and he waved us off as Marco helped me limp in the direction of my car.

 

"What do you mean I can't drive?" I spat as Marco blocked me from accessing the driver's side door.  
"Jean, you can't even walk on your own, there's no way I'm letting you drive." He said patiently.  
"I don't need my left foot to drive, you're only supposed to use your right foot." I retorted.  
"Jean." Marco said, staring down pointedly at me in a way that let me know he probably want going to change his mind, and it wasn't like I make him move right now.  
"Can you even drive though?" I asked, incredulous, "you're a fish person most of the time right? I'm sure that doesn't give you any sort of natural born motor skills."  
Marco shot me a crooked smile, "You'd be surprised at how much time I spend on land, Jean. My mother was a human after all, I stay with her a lot. I took driving lessons when I was sixteen just like everyone else, and I'd wager I'm probably a better driver than you."  
Agitated but unable to think of a response that would make him get the fuck out of my way I simply let out a 'hmph' and threw the keys to my Camery at him before limping over to the passenger's side. Marco unlocked the doors and we both shuffled inside, eager to get out of the increasingly chilly breeze. Onc inside, I flipped on the heat and the stereo, some old song by The White Birch – Atlantis - began playing over the speakers as Marco put the keys in the ignition and my car rumbled to life. As we pulled out, Marco opened his mouth and started singing along in arguably the most enchanting voice I'd ever heard:

“You can tell me  
About the useless sea  
And we can dance like diamond thieves at the fair  
And we can dance like open windows in the evening air”

I realized after a little bit that I'd been staring at him again, mouth slightly agape before I snapped it shut and turned my head away, not wanting to look at him as I interrupted him, “Marco?”  
“Hm?”  
“Marco...” The words were stuck in my throat, burning as I tried to force them out, “There's...There's really no way for you to take your skin back...is there.” It wasn't a question, really, because I knew what his response would be before he said anything more.  
Marco was quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh, “Jean... I...” He paused, apparently not wanting to say the words as much as I wanted to hear them. “No. I can't take my skin back. The same magic that binds us keeps me from taking my skin back from you.”  
I knew the words were coming, but It didn't make hearing them any easier on me. I was silent then, unabl to think of anything further to say.  
Luckily Marco was quick to fill the silence, “There are way, Jean... For us to become unbound. I...I can't say I know all of them, only the one. And don't look at me like that, Jean.” I noticed that suddenly my head had snapped back up and I was looking directly at Marco as he continued. Probably looking desperately hopeful, I was an embarrassment.  
“Sorry.” I muttered, dropping my head once more.  
“Marco simply shrugged, “I just don't want you to get your hopes up. The only way I know to release my binding are for me to find my skin once you've hidden it, but it wouldn't be an easy thing to do. You won't be able to help hiding it away form me in a secret place, and I am unable to go looking for it. It would have to be purely by chance, and those chances are slim.”  
I was quiet again then, unsure of what to say next before I just decided to come out ans ask the question that had been weighing heaviest on my mind.  
“So...what do we do now?”  
“We just carry on with our lives, I suppose, hoping that you find you want me to stay near you.” He said, taking a moment to purse his lips before continuing, “I...I want you to like me, you know. I like you.”  
I was incredulous to say the least.  
“How could you like me, you don't know a thing about me.”  
A faint smile graced his lips, “I know enough, for now. I mean, I'd like to get to know you more, of course, but... I've seen you. When I met you... you were more concerned about not upsetting me with your blood than you were about your own bleeding foot. You're incredibly kind, and courageous. Not to mention that you accepted me without much persuasion, and you aren't bitter about this whole situation, I know you're not. Confused and scared maybe, but not bitter. You don't hate me like I imagined you would. You didn't rat me out to your friend either, or blame me for the pain you're in.”  
He turned to me then, looking me straight in the eye, “You're kind of amazing, Jean.”  
I didn't know what to say to that, so I rapidly changed the subject, “Where are you going?”  
“Uh, to campus?”  
I shook my head, “I don't live on campus. I live at home, take a right up here I'll lead you back.”  
“You don't live in a dorm?” He asked, eyes now back on the road.  
“Nah. Room and board are an unnecessary expense when your house is just a few miles away from campus. Speaking of, housing, where are you staying?”  
“With you?” He offered.  
On instinct I laughed, but as soon as I saw the seriousness of Marco's face I stopped.  
“I don't know how my mom would react to me suddenly bringing a stranger into the house to live with us for an undefined period of time.” I said seriously. “Besides, you said your mom was a...human, right? You can't stay with her?”  
Marco pursed his lips again, “I told you, I can't be too far from you now. Think of it as a leash; for lack of a better word, I pretty much belong to you now.”  
“So you have to stay with me then.” I said flatly.  
“Not in your house,” He replied, “if you don't want me to, I mean. I can sleep outside. I have before.”  
I visibly cringed at the thought. “No, no, I'll convince my mom. I don't think she'd turn you out so long as you have nowhere else to go. She's pretty chill.”  
Marco smiled, “Thank you, Jean. Really.”  
“I can't just leave you to sleep out in the yard like a dog,” I replied, waving my hand to signify that it wasn't a big deal.  
“But you could though. You could just leave me out there, I know people that would have done just that, but you didn't.” He insisted. “I...Of all the people I could be bound to against their will, I'm glad it was someone like you.”  
I said nothing, but the way the edges of Marco's mouth turned up suggested that he knew how I felt about that; as much as I would never say it, I felt exactly the same way.


	4. A Miraculous Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean realizes he's very astute in regards to others but not when it comes to assessing himself

As expected, my mom was extremely sympathetic towards Marco’s apparent homelessness, (we told her Marco’s roommate was a business major dabbling in the business of drug dealing, and that Marco wanted none of that but his parents live out of state so he needed a place to stay,) so a couple months later he’s still staying with us. He’s been around so much it’s almost like he’s become part of the family; he shares in my chores, sings in the shower, cooks dinner on the nights mom is out and we don’t feel like eating pizza again, he even reads to my little sister Lacy until she falls asleep. I can’t imagine my life any more without him in it.

Honestly, when we first walked through the front door a month or so back, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. I left Marco downstairs and wandered up to my room, where I found that I was suddenly able to release my grip on his sea-skin, (you can imagine my joy,) so not only did I drop it at once, but the moment it hit the floor I kicked it into the abyss that was the under side of my bed- the land of lost socks, paper plates, and an assortment of other various items of varying uselessness. From there, I did a fair amount of pacing around my room in a sorry attempt at trying to sort out my emotions and how I was going to proceed with keeping Marco around. Honestly, I never came to any useful conclusion, I just went back down stairs and we just moved on with our lives, like he said.

And also like he said, I found that I did want to keep him near me. Not in a romantic way, mind you, I still wasn’t up for the whole weird mate-by-skin-possession thing, but somehow this odd freckled fish boy from the ocean became my best friend, and vice versa.

Marco had become one of the very few presences in my life that brought not only comfort but a sense of ease and calmness that couldn’t be found in my other friends. I mean, yeah, they’re amazing friends, don’t get me wrong, but Marco handles things differently than other people.

Let me explain.

I’ll be the first to admit that I get fired up easily, it’s what I do. I’m hot headed. Sue me. But the thing with Marco is that he can combat that mess inside me without making it bigger or worse, trying to stifle who I am. Take Eren for example; my being around him, it’s like a tornado meets a volcano. I like the kid and everything, but he’s as heated as I am, and when we’re both fired up the outcome generally isn’t a positive one. Armin, on the other hand, is at the opposite end if the spectrum; he hates conflict, and will do anything to avoid it, trying to sooth tensions and end fights before they begin. He does his best to keep everyone calm, but his way of doing it is akin to plugging up a leak rather than actually fixing it, and stopping everything up like that can only take care of the problem for so long before it bursts again. Marco though, he’s different. He doesn’t fight my fire with more fire, and he doesn’t just try to blow me out before I get too big, instead he waits for me to burn myself out. Think of that one lab everyone does in chemistry. I may not have gotten high marks in chemistry, but I do remember the lab where you put a flaming match in a beaker and the cover the opening so that no more air gets inside. Since fires can only burn when there is an ample supply of oxygen, once the fire consumes all if the air in the closed beaker, it’s forced to go out because there’s nothing left to burn. Really, the match did all the work and was the reason for the fire going out, but the thing that stopped up the opening in the beaker is responsible for allowing the match to burn itself out. That’s what I think Marco is, he’s the stopper that lets me get out all my anger without interference.

What I mean is, Marco is the best friend I could ask for.

The only problem was just that feeling that never really went away. That tight, fluttery feeling that nestled into the pit of my stomach whenever he came too close, whenever I thought about him for too long. Whatever crazy magic had bound us together, tied this mystic thread between us, I was sure it was also to blame for sending my stomach into a flurry whenever Marco was nearby. Worse still was the feeling that came with the touch of his skin on mine, the simple brush of his arm against mine was enough to set the whole world aglow, and I loved it as much as I hated it. I hated it because I didn’t want any of this, didn’t want this freckled boy tried to me like a dog on a leash, didn’t want these fake feelings I wasn’t sure were even my own, I felt trapped in a life I didn’t choose and I hated it with a passion.

But I didn’t hate Marco.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t hate Marco. I knew none of this was his fault, he chose this as much as I did, and he had an incredibly good attitude about all of it. I’m sure I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but he never once complained. True to his word, nearly everything Marco did was with my interests in mind rather than his own, insisting that his life now was all about making me happy. He never tried to push the whole mate thing on my again, not even attempting to bring it up, he was simply there for me. It gave me hope that maybe being bound together wouldn’t force us into a relationship neither of us wanted, and we could simply stay the friends that we had become, or whatever this was that we had.

.

”Marco?” I said, gently leaning my head back so I could look up at his freckled face. About an hour ago, if settled down to study for my upcoming Art History exams below the window in my bedroom, and shortly after Marco followed me up and settled down on the windows seat above, offering his help, though he’d been quiet for some time now, his attention fading in and out. As I looked up I saw him staring out the window again, eyes somber and distant. “Marco?” I said, louder this time.

”Hm?” He replied, blinking rapidly for a moment before turning towards me, a smile lighting up his face, “What’s up?”

I looked over his features for a moment, trying to figure out what plagued him. He’d been acting like this for several days now, drifting off into thought and staring out the window. I had a hunch, but was hesitant to voice it. Though, at this point I felt I owed it to him to listen to his problems for a change.

”Do you miss it?” I asked quietly.

”Miss what?” He asked, eyebrows pushing together in confusion.

I shrugged, “The ocean. Your family. Your skin. Do you miss them?”

Marco frowned, “Why do you ask?”

”You’ve been looking out towards the ocean for the past hour or so, sighing forlornly every so often, but it’s not like you’re a house cat stuck inside, you’re allowed to come and go when you please, other than going back to the ocean. I can’t think of anything else it could be.” I replied.

Marco’s lips pressed into a tight line for a moment before curving upward in somewhat of a rueful smile. “I forget how perceptive you are sometimes, since you so rarely voice your observations.”

”So I’m right then?” I guessed.

His head turned away then, “I’m happy here, with you. This is my new home, my new family, my new skin.”

I frowned and stood up, pushing his legs off of the seat to make room for myself. Settling down, I said, “Just because you like what you have doesn’t mean you can’t miss what you don’t. You lost a lot when I stepped on your scales, you don’t have to pretend it was no big deal.”

”It’s the way things are, Jean.” Marco said simply, “I knew this was going to happen one day. I guess I just wasn’t prepared when it did, with it being unexpected and all. I wasn’t ready to let it go then, hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye, but I’ve come to terms with it now.” Despite his words though, his face looked pained, sending a painful throb through my chest.

Not knowing how to reply, I grabbed at Marco’s hand, suddenly craving the feeling of his skin on mine and the perfect feeling that came along with it, hoping that the mutual sensation would help take away the sadness in his eyes. With fingers entwined in mine, Marco squeezed back, offering me a smile that wasn’t quite so forced.

”Marco…I know none of this happened like you wanted it to. Hell, I’m probably the last person you would have chosen for this ordeal, but… I hope you’re not too miserable having to be here, with me.”

”I told you, I’m happy here, being able to be friends with you.” He said, squeezing my fingers again.

”Friends…” I murmured, looking down at our hands, “is that what we are?”

”I thought that’s what you wanted?”

”I do. I…I did. But… If we’re just friends, then why do I crave your company so much? Miss you do desperately when you’re not around? Why do I want to hold your hands and play with your hair and hug you?” I turned my face up to look him in the eyes, “Why… Why do I want to kiss you?”

Marco gaped, “You… What?”

I didn’t give him a chance to question further as the words began pouring from my lips so fast I couldn’t seem to shut myself up. “I through from the second you told me about all this sea-skin business that I wanted nothing to do with it, that I wanted nothing to do with you, but now… now I think the magic is working like it’s supposed to. Being around you makes me happier than anything, you make me happy. You said earlier that you wanted me to like you, and that’s exactly what’s happened, except I think that it’s not really me that likes you; It’s this thing, whatever it is that keeps us together, thats making me feel this way. I want us to be friends Marco, I really, really do, but this magic stuff is making it so hard for me because when you’re around me for so long all I can think about is-”

“Jean.” Marco interrupted suddenly, staring intently down at me, “Jean, I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no magic that’s making you like me, it binds us together, sure, and it can control our actions to some extent, but as far as emotions go…It can’t touch those.”

I blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, trying to wrap my head around what he’d just told me. If my hearing was correct, Marco had just told me, all those dumb butterfly feelings fluttering around in my stomach whenever he so much as looked at me was not caused by the silvery magical thread that stretched between us like I’d been led to believe, and if that was in fact true, that could only mean one thing.

A wide, shit-eating grin stretched across Marco’s face, “Jean, I think you just told me that you like me.”

“Not a chance.” I said, feeling a ferocious blush burn its way across my cheeks.

He threw his head back and laughed, “Then what did you mean when you said: ‘Marco, I…I want you to kiss me!’”

Suddenly, I was fed up with his teasing me, I let go of his hand and fisted it up in his shirt and bringing my face close to his so he could see my snarl, “I did not say that!”

Despite my proximity, Marco was unperturbed, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I spat, “I said that I want to kiss you.”

My lips were on his then, successfully cutting off whatever witty reply Marco was about to fire back at me, only allowing for him to let out a startled noise before his mouth was covered by my own, and let me tell you, it wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t an explosion of passion or need, his mouth was not the air and I was not a suffocating man.

But it was nice.

His lips were soft and warm and after he recovered from the shock of what was happening they yielded to mine, putting up little resistance. There were no sparks but that warm glow that appeared wherever our skin collided was now spreading throughout my body, slowly filling me up with a feeling of complete contentment that got just a little sweeter when I let my eyes slip closed and tilted my head to get even closer. In that moment I wasn’t really worried about anything- it was probably the most perfect kiss I’d ever had- until Marco parted his lips in a small, airy moan and I realized exactly what it was that I was doing.

As soon as the reality of the situation hit me, my eyes snapped open and I released Marco’s lips in a panic, but seeing his face before mine, eyes closed and a faint blush creeping along underneath his freckles, I freaked out a little. Letting out a yelp of surprise, I tried to scoot myself away from him, but being on the small window seat, there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go until my hand slipped off the edge and I toppled to the ground.

“J-Jean!” Marco gasped, “Are you okay?!”

I let out a groan and covered my flushing face with my hands, too embarrassed to respond for a second. “You know, I was really convinced that it was your stupid mermaid magic that had made me have feelings for another guy but it turns out maybe I’m just gay.”

Marco stared down at me for a moment with a look of utter bewilderment on his face before letting out a round of barking laugher, “Ahahahah!!! Oh my gosh! Hahaha! Jean! I thought-ahaha! I thought you knew!”

“I’m having a crisis of identity and you’re laughing at me, some friend you are.” I said, finally sitting up to glare at him.

Doing his best to stifle his laughter, Marco replied, “I-I’m sorry Jean. I really thought you knew. I mean, there’s no way I’d be able to be bound to you if you were incapable of finding me physically appealing, or vice versa. It doesn’t work that way.”

“You mean your scales have a built-in gaydar?” I asked, incredulous.

This question prompted another fit of laughter before Marco could respond, “I suppose that’s one way of putting it, yes. I guess I never got around to explaining that part of the bargain. When I told you that whoever takes my sea-skin away is the one I’m destined to mate with, I didn’t mean just anyone could take my skin. We have to be compatible…on some level at least.” He looked directly into my eyes and grinned ever wider, “I have to say though, I’m somewhat flattered that I was the one to make you question your sexuality. Can’t really get a better compliment than that.”

I groaned, “I can’t believe this. First merpeople and now I’m gay- in what other ways are you planning on shattering my reality, Marconas?”

Marco laughed again, and I have to admit, it really was a nice laugh, “I’ll try to give you fair warning next time.”

I sighed, feeling my anger begin to ebb away, “Thanks man, I don’t know how many more times I can take being thrown for a loop before I have fucking mental breakdown.”

Sliding down from his perch on the window seat to the carpeted floor beside me, Marco’s grin faded away as he looked at me; his eyebrows pushed together and teeth began worrying his lower lip, as if contemplating something.

“What?” I asked, somewhat uncomfortable under his stare.

“Jean…” He breathed, a new blush blooming under his speckled skin, “I… I really liked kissing you. Can we…do it again?”

I snorted, “I still can’t believe I’m fucking gay.” but despite my words I leaned forward for our lips to meet again- reveling in the feeling of total bliss that consumed me when I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh!!!! I'm so very sorry it's been a while since I've updated! I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life these last few weeks (including but not limited to getting a job, taking the SAT, going on a short vacation, summer homework, etc.) However! I really hope to get back in the saddle and finish up this story as quickly as possible, so please bear with me!


	5. Gratuitous Amounts of Garabage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco and Jean have a fun day down at the wharf.

“So what you're telling me right now is that you've never had deep-fried cheesecake?” I asked, staring over at my freckled friend in disbelief.

Marco's nose crinkled in disgust, “No, that sounds revolting.”

“What about deep-fried oreos?”

“Ew! No! That sounds even worse!”

“Deep-fried twinkies?”

“Jean, I swear, if you keep going I'll probably start dry heaving.”

I let out a huff, leaning back into the sofa and turning my eyes back towards the tv. School had been out for a couple weeks now, and Marco and I had currently been spending our time watching some hack-and-slash movie, more to laugh at the unrealistic blood spurting and terrible CGI than anything, but when the faux gore began to die down, we'd started swapping questions. “You said you lived half your life on land, I don't see how you could have avoided those things for so long.”

Marco rolled his eyes, “My mom was kind of a health nut. We were lucky if we ever got a tub of low-fat frozen yogurt in the house, much less deep-fried oreo cheesecake.”

“Oh Marco, you poor, deprived child,” I gasped in mock horror, “We're going to have to rectify this immediately. I'm taking you to the board walk today, and I am going to buy to all the cheesy, greasy, disgustingly artery-clogging foods you can eat.”

I could feel Marco stiffen beside me, and when I looked over I could see his eyes blown up wide.  
“What?”

“You mean...take me out...like on a date?” His eyes moved to avoid mine, a light pink dusting over his cheeks.

I blinked several times before a grin stretched over my face, my hand reaching out to ruffle his hair in a playful manner. “You're such a goof. Sure, it can be a date if you want it to be.”

His cheeks flushed deeper, “Oh! Oh, o-only if you want it to be, I mean.” 

I laughed, “Marco, I would love to go on a date with you.”

Marco's face was still red as a tomato, but upon hearing those words his lips spread out in a soft smile, as if he were somewhat relieved that I had actually said yes. It was ridiculous, really, how that stupid little upward turn of his lips could send my heart into a frenzy, and yet it did. Every single time. Before I could dwell on it too much, seeing as if I spent too much time thinking about Marco's lips it's more than likely that we would both become very distracted, I shuffled to my feet before turning back to Marco and offering him my hand. “Alright, let's get out of here.”

Marco shot me a quizzical look but accepted my extended arm nonetheless, sending those absurd tingles buzzing over my skin just like they did every other time he touched me, “Where are we going?”

“To get you a hot deep-fried lump of food on a stick, of course.” I replied with a snicker, “I'm taking you to the pier and we're going to load up on all that gooey goodness.”

Marco rolled his eyes dramatically but followed me out to the car all the same, and as a reward for his unyielding obedience and compliance with my outrageous demands, I allowed him to pick out the soundtrack for our little excursion. Unfortunately, Marco apparently has terrible tastes in music; after going through every single cd case my car held, he eventually laid hands on an old Britney Spears CD from way back when this car was under my mothers possession. Much to my dismay, not only did Marco's mother also have this exact same album, (I believe it was titled In the Zone) it was a young Marco's absolute favorite and he knew every word to every song. However, what Marco lacked in music tastes he more than made up for in his ability to hold a tune; seriously, one of the first things I learned about him when he first became my roommate was that Marco had an incredible voice, along with the uncanny ability to memorize any song after the first time listening to it. Not only that, but Marco also liked to sing along to just about anything: the radio, movie sound tracks, even commercial jingles weren't exempt from his melodious voice, not that I, or anyone else for that matter, minded of course.

Marco put Britney Spears' synthetic voice to shame. Especially when the chorus of the song Toxic hit.

“With a taste of your lips  
I’m on a ride  
You're toxic I'm slipping under  
With a taste of a poison paradise  
I’m addicted to you  
Don’t you know that you’re toxic...” Marco sang, his voice rising and falling in all the right places, hitting the highs with just the right kind of falsetto and not relying heavily on his vibrato to carry his sound. It was magical, really. In fact, by the time the second bridge rolled around it was getting increasingly hard to pay attention to the road, I had to stop him for my own sake.

“Marco, are you sure you're not a siren?”

“Huh?” He asked, his tone questioning and confused.

“You know, a siren; beautiful creature of the sea with a heavenly voice designed to drag unsuspecting sailors to their doom. You seem to fit the bill.” I clarified.

Marco simply laughed in response, “Oh? If I'm the alluring creature you're accusing me of being, does that make you my smitten sailor?”

I snorted, “That seems to be the case. Even though you were just singing arguably one of the most atrocious songs I was ever subjected to as a child, the sound of your voice still made me want to pull this car over to the shoulder of the road and give you a ride on my lips.”

With a blush blooming under his skin, Marco chose to ignore that comment and answer my original question, “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I am not a siren. For one, they were described as beautiful woman with bird-like features such as wings and scaly feet, and for two, they don't exist.”

“Oh well excuse me for being so stupid as to believe a mythical creature could exist in this world.” I said sarcastically.

“Hush, you know what I mean.” Said Marco, apparently unabashed.

“Fine, fine, so you're not a greek myth, that still in no way denotes the fact that your voice is magical and you should be careful with how you use it. With great power comes great responsibility, you know.” I said in a mockingly stern tone.

From the corner of my eye I could see Marco rolling his eyes at me, but instead of replying he returned to singing the pop song currently playing over my speakers, most likely in childish retaliation to my warnings. Again, not that I minded in the slightest, however distracting his melodious voice happened to be.

\------------------------

“Jean, I might seriously throw up.” Said Marco, looking very green from his place beside me. Plan Shove-As-Many-Greasy-Delicious-Foods-As-Possible-Down-Marco's-Throat-So-He-Can-Experience-Life-The-Right-Way had been a success to some extent. I'd succeeded in making Marco eat fried mac and cheese bites, fries oreos, a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Georgia Mud Fudge blizzard from Dairy Queen by ordering all these items for myself and insisting that I couldn't eat them all alone, and throwing them away would be a waste of my hard-earned cash. Marco insisted that each and every thing I ordered was abhorrent., but despite his abrasive words, he ended up sharing about half of every order with me. However, my successes were not without repercussions. Having been raised on a relatively healthy and natural diet all his life, Marco's stomach was apparently not entirely up to the task of digesting all the crap I'd forced him to consume over the past few hours, and as a result he wound up feeling pretty nauseous. Despite this, Marco still insisted he was well enough to go for one ride on the ferris wheel just as the sun started setting, because he'd been looking forward to it all day. I wasn't entirely convinced, mind you, but you try saying no to his big puppy dog eyes and see how well that goes for you.

“Marco, you know we can come back any time and ride this thing, you don't have to push yourself.” I insisted.

Marco shook his head and fixed the ferris wheel with a determined stare, “No, I want to ride it tonight. It's the perfect temperature and the sky is clear and we're almost to the front of the line. We're doing this.”

I sighed but argued no further, knowing it was pointless. Instead, I just slid a hand around his waist to pull him back so he could lean back on my chest as we waited, and he sunk into me with a grateful sigh. He was right at least, about us being close to the front of the line. It wasn't more than ten minutes before the ride's operator was before us with a cheerful smile, helping us into our car and giving us the quick rundown of the rules before closing us in and attending to the next passengers. Once we were off into the air, Marco seemed to forget entirely about his nausea, seeing as he was not leaning over the rail of the car, wide eyes filled with wonder, to take in the expanses of the wharf set aglow with all its carnival lights.

“So, was it all worth it?” I asked with a smirk, knowing full well what the reply would be.

Marco turned back to look at me with a smile so soft and genuine, it melted my heart just a little bit. “It's amazing, Jean. Thank you so much for everything today.”

Having said those words, he scooted back over to his place beside me, resting his head on my shoulder as I snaked an arm around his own, holding him to me as we took in the view. It wasn't long before we were approaching the peak of the ride, and I took the chance to really examine the boy I held in my arms: The pulsating lights form the pier below cast a soft golden glow across his freckled face, highlighting his tanned skin and light brown eyes, and his thin lips were upturned ever so slightly, as his face were naturally just set like that, always a pleasant smile.

Eventually he must have sensed my eyes on him or something because when he turned his head to look up at me he frowned ever so slightly, “You're missing the best part. What are you looking at?”

“The best part.” I said matter-of-factly, before leaning down to press my lips to his ever so slightly. When I pulled back, I could see Marco's face turning rosy in response to my actions, and I figured he was going to protest, insisting that I pay attention to the ride we'd waited so long for, but to my surprise, as soon as I began to pull away Marco's fingers slid around to the back of my head, pulling my face back to his so he could begin kissing me with reckless abandon.

We went on like that for quite some time, just reveling in the feeling of him under my fingertips, his skin against mine, pulling apart only to breathe, until finally we realized it was nearly time for us to get out from the car. Just before we reached the end of our decent, however, Marco leaned into me and buried his face in the crook of my neck, mumbling softly, “I'm so happy right now.”

I kissed the top of his head, “You know, I never thought I'd say it, but I think I am genuinely happy that my stupid ass ended up stomping on your sea-skin and getting me all tangled up in this magical fairy business. I didn't think it was possible, but my life has gotten a lot better being bound to a freckled fish-person.”

Marco was laughing whole heartedly when the attended opened our car door for us, and I took his hand in mine as we took our leave of the wharf and made our way back to the car, keeping it there the entire car ride home, managing to keep my eyes on the road the entire time as he sang along to Britney until we made it up into our driveway. It was just as I turned off the music that Marco finally turned to address me.

“You know what, Jean?” He asked quietly, looking down at our hands.

“Hm?”

“All my crazy magic merman stuff aside, I think I've fallen in love with you.” He said shyly.

For a few moment I was too stunned by his confession to reply, and it was only when he looked up at my face with such an intense fear of rejection that I found my voice again. One side of my mouth tilted up in a crooked smile and I let out a sigh, “Well, it's good to know the feeling is mutual.”

Upon hearing these words, Marco's mouth split into a wide grin right before he released my hand to cradle my face as he brought our lips together again, and when I wrapped my arms around his torso to bring him in close, I could feel his heartbeat fluttering in his ribcage just as fast and furious as my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I've officially met my fluff quota on this fic, however, that being said, the next chapter is going to be a very serious one so I suggest you enjoy it while you can.
> 
> Oh! and be sure to check out the Ripple Effect playlist I made over on 8tracks, (it can be found here: http://8tracks.com/dafthappiness/ripple-effect?utm_campaign=tumblr_button) it contains a whole bunch of soothing songs that remind me of this fic, and I really hope you enjoy it!


	6. A Mighty Fine Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which mistakes are made all around.

“Marco, what the hell are you doing?”

I had gone out just an hour or so ago to pick up some groceries for dinner, since my mom was going to be out for the night at a dinner party and upon coming back and unloading all the groceries, I hadn't seem Marco once, which was odd. Usually Marco appears from wherever he is in the house to my exact location almost instantly but this time I hadn't heard so much as a 'welcome home' since I'd arrived. Curious, I'd gone to seek him out. As it turns out, Marco taken advantage of my time out of the house to shut himself in my room, plug my iPod into my iHome and set Pandora to some bubblegum pop station, and set to work cleaning my disaster of a room. 

“Hey, Jean!” Marco piped, smile bright as the goddamn sunshine. Only he could look that happy while wading through the filth of my room. “I decided, you know, since you were out and were going to be busy with dinner, I'd help you out and organize your room a little.”

“My room doesn't need to be organized.” I said as I stepped towards him, attempting to take from him the pile of wadded up clothes he's gathered in his arms, “It's fine the way it is.”

“Jean, I haven't been able to see the floor of your room pretty much since I moved in to this house. Now I know that this is your room and down the hall is my room and to each their own and what not, but I really can't stand to walk past this room every day and see all the crap in here.” Marco scoffed, “And if you aren't going to do anything about it, which clearly you have no intentions of doing, I'm taking it upon myself to get the job done.”

I just rolled my eyes, “You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculous or not, your room is getting cleaned,” Marco huffed, moving out of the way of my outstretched arms, “so you can either help me out or you can get out.”

“Wow, Marco I'm impressed you've finally grown a backbone,” I said, snickering as Marco jabbed an elbow in my general direction, “Fine, fine. I'll help you destroy my organized chaos.”

Marco laughed at that, “Organized, my ass. This is organized: I've put the basket full of dirty clothes over in that cover, a basket full of clean clothes you never bothered to put away over in the adjacent corner, and here's a trash bag for basically everything else in here.”

“Alright, got it. What do you want me to tackle first?”

“Uh, if you could start working on your closet that would be awesome. Frankly I'm kind of afraid to look in there.”

I snorted but chose not comment, instead wading over to the closet door and opening it as slowly as possible to prevent an avalanche of clothes and god knows what else.

“I think I'm going to move on to the underside of your bed now.” Marco said from across the room.

“If you think you're brave enough.” I said, smirking, foregoing the previous preventative measures I'd been taking and letting the closet door swing free, successfully breaking the floodgates and letting a sea of socks and sweats tumble to the floor and pool around my ankles.

Whether or not Marco chose not to reply or was simply ignoring my comment remained a mystery, but I was too full with trying to separate my actual clothes from anything else I had shoved back in my closet over the years. Seeing all of it, I felt a little bad that Marco had taken it upon himself to go through the horrors of my room alone before I'd returned from shopping, but the most I could do about it now was help where I could. Marco seemed determined to get this done with or without my help so I figured at the very least I could offer my service wherever applicable, even if it mean facing a sea of my own crumpled clothing. So I set to work as Marco requested, picking up each article of clothing and decisively throwing it into one basket or the other, most of it headed towards either the increasingly larger dirty pile, and more still towards the trash pile, since a large majority of them seemed to have been thrown into the closet in the first place on the basis that they were either a) ripped and threadbare, b) too small to fit, or c) all of the above. Once I'd set a point system in place for every piece successfully tossed into the basket, I could almost say that I was having fun.

That is, until I felt a sudden, tearing sensation in my chest cavity.

It wasn't terribly painful, I don't think it was actually a physical sensation I was feeling, but it surprised me enough to have me tearing upright and swiveling around, automatically searching for Marco. When my eyes finally landed on him, I found him hunched over beside my bed, looking completely rigid.

“Marco?” I asked softly, reaching an arm out towards him.

“Jean?” He asked, in the same hushed tone, standing up slowly and turning to face me. In his hands was a balled up mass of dusky red fabric, looking heavy and familiar in his arms. 

His sea-skin.

'The only way I know to release my binding are for me to find my skin once you've hidden it, but it wouldn't be an easy thing to do. You won't be able to help hiding it away form me in a secret place, and I am unable to go looking for it. It would have to be purely by chance, and those chances are slim...' His words from the day we met rang out in my head as clear as if he'd said them aloud.

“This is... This is where you hid it?” Marco asked, his shoulders quaking gently. At first he looked as though he were crying, but as soon as he raised his head, I could see a sort of anger in his eyes and the weight of his eyebrows folded down across his forehead. “My skin, my one and only sea-skin, my most important- no, my only possession in this world and you crumpled it up and threw it under your bed?”

“Marco,” I tried to soothe him, “when we first got back, I didn't know what to do. I was confused, and scared, and I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to forget for a second, I just wanted to figure out how to get rid of you. I didn't know you yet, I didn't know how that we'd become friends, that we'd become... and, I mean, by then I forgot about it.”

“You forgot?” He was seething now, “I told you how important my skin is to me, I told you! And you never once thought 'oh, since I want Marco to stay around, maybe I should take care of this thing like he said.'?”

“Marco, I didn't... I mean, I didn't know...”

“No, Jean, you did know. I told you. I told you that my sea-skin is a part of me. I told you that I had a connection to it, and that it was very important to me. I even told you that if I found it, we'd become unbound. Well now, guess what? It's back in my hands because you were so irresponsible, because I wasn't important enough to you for you to take care of it, and now I'm not so sure I want you to have possession of it anymore.”

He stopped talking then, his breathing heavy as he stared at me, waiting for some sort of reply. I couldn't get the words to form though, even as his breaths evened out and flushed face returned to normal color, it took me a while to really form any thoughts at all.

“Ok.” I said, when I finally found my voice.

“Ok?” He questioned, his eyes tracking me as I stepped away from the closet and over towards my bedroom door.

“Yeah, alright, that's fine.” I said, stepping out of the room, making my way down the hall towards the stairs, “You can leave then.”

“What?” His voice came fast and incredulous, and when I looked back at his face his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, as if he were surprised.

“We're unbound now, right? That's what that feeling was back up there, that was the little cord we had between us being cut, right? Well that means you don't have to stay here anymore, your leash is gone, you can go wherever the hell you want and don't have to worry about being close to me.”

“Jean...”

I wasn't listening though, I was on my way down the stairs, headed towards the front door. I didn't know where I was going, really, but I did know that I wanted out of my house I wanted away from Marco, which was strange, seeing as I hadn't felt that way even on the night we met. It made sense though, my not wanting to be near him now. Even on the night we met, I'd only met him after I'd touched his skin, after we'd been bound, and now that we weren't, I found I had the ability to actually walk away from Marco, and that I wanted him away from me. Given this new piece of information, I was beginning to suspect my draw to the boy had been all part of that magical spell bullshit from the scales.

My keys were in reach and I grabbed them from the side table by the door with one hand while unlocking the door with the other. Just before I opened it, however, I took on last glance up at Marco. He was standing up on the balcony of the foyer, looking down at me with a look of utter bewilderment.

“But Jean, I told you, I love you-”

“Yeah, but now you don't have to.” I said quickly, trying not to look him in the eye, “It's fine Marco, really. I wouldn't want to be bound to a lazy, sloppy, snobby jerk with a quick temper and a sharp tongue either, I don't blame you at all, so I'm going to leave to give you time to pack up all your shit and get the hell out of here without me in your way and you can go back to the ocean and get back all the things I took from you and take care of your skin and set it out for someone you really do want to be bound to forever. You don't have to waste your time on someone who can't even be bothered to remember where he put the damn thing anymore. Go live your life the way it was supposed to be before I stomped my way into it.”

And then I was out the door, before either one of us had the chance to say anymore more. Within minutes I was in my car and down the street, Britney Spears picking up where she left of the last time I'd been out driving, and on my way towards nothing in particular. It was a good thing Marco found his scales, I told myself, because now he could choose who his mate was, and he could do it whenever he was ready to give up his life in the ocean, a decision I had robbed him of that fateful night some months ago. He could have back everything I'd taken from him.

This was a good thing.

So why were there an abundance of hot tears clouding up my vision and streaming silently down my cheeks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUUUUGH. I hate this chapter, I really do. It's poorly written, and I feel bad, but I really couldn't do better than this. 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up tonight though, or at the very most tomorrow morning, so I don't have to look at this very long.


	7. Red.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a great urgency.

Honestly, it was kind of a shock to the system to try and carry out my life without Marco in it, seeing as he'd been there by my side every day for months on end, affecting my life in ways I hadn't even realized. Being with Marco had become as natural to me as breathing, and suddenly it was as if I was going through every day missing something as inherently a part of my life as my shadow. 

When I'd come home that night, Marco was gone but certainly not without a trace. I'd expected him to take all the supplies we'd acquired for him over the months, the clothes, the toiletries, the used iPod, everything was right where it had been. In fact, everything was so suspicious, what with having Marco gone but all of his things remaining, that I had to gather up everything I could find before my mother returned home and shove it back in my newly emptied closet. When questioned about Marco's whereabouts, I told my mom that Marco had just found out that his aunt and uncle had just moved in to a house in the next town over, and Marco had packed his bags and left to visit them for the week to help them move in, and it was very possible that he was going to live with them from now on. I told her he sent his thanks for being so hospitable towards him for so long, and that he'd try to visit sometime. Mostly, I threw in that last part of Lacy's benefit, seeing as she was heartbroken that her playmate and bard had suddenly up and vanished.

Me, I busied myself with helping Connie study for his summer courses with Sasha and going over to Eren and Mikasa's so swim at their pool and barbecuing with Armin when we wanted to splurge on food. When everyone had gone off down the coast for vacation and I could no longer count on being distracted from my thoughts by my friends, I did my best to stay occupied in other ways. I took my sister to the park and out to lunches, and spent a lot of time at the library reading, or playing mind numbing video games. I even tried to finish cleaning my room, but as it turns out that activity was way-totally not possible without my mind being pelted by memories of him and our fight. My room was left as it had been, going nearly untouched for roughly a month until my mother noticed my, quote unquote, 'sulking about' and woke me up early one Saturday morning, insisting that I 'go renew my passion for photography,' since I hadn't touched my camera in so long. As much as I loathed the idea, she was right. I hadn't wanted to go outside and do things I really liked to do, specifically photography, because having real live actual fun without Marco anymore seemed wrong in some kind of way. Like it wasn't actually fun, it was just a vestige of me trying to be who I was before Marco'd walked in and out of my life. Regardless of my feelings on the matter though, I dutifully grabbed my camera and trudged outside to my car, for my mother's sake if not for my own.

Once seated and buckled, (the Britney Spears cd effectively cut off before it could begin,) I noticed a striking similarity between the morning I saw stretched out before me and the one I'd experienced not terribly long ago.

The air was thick with billowing fog, the sky grey and dull, and the sensation of breathing could be better compared to taking sips of water, just the same as it had been the morning I'd seen Marco for the first time. And me, being the stupid, idiotic, nostalgic and slightly heartbroken person that I was, I decided, hey, why not make my way down to the beach, for old times sake? It won't bring all the memories I'd been working so hard to repress back to the surface and remind me that I'd lost the person I may or may not have fallen in love with for the first time in my life. Great idea, really.

I'm a moron.

But I digress, internal conflict aside, I was on my way to the beach, maybe to have fun and maybe to wallow in my own self-pity. The twenty minute drive to the beach was spent mostly in a daze, the path so familiar to me that even blanketed in fog I knew the way like I knew the back of my hand. It seemed as though I'd no sooner left my driveway than I was pulling up in the beach parking lot. It was just around mid summer on a decently cool day, I had expected there to be an abundance of cars between all the yellow lines, but to my surprise, the parking lot was nearly devoid of other cars, just the same as the first time I'd come that year, and as soon as I killed the engine, my body seemed to set itself on autopilot.

Before I'd had the chance to process what I was doing, the sandals I hadn't realized I'd put on were off my feet and thrown into the backseat and my legs were carrying me off to the beach at a rapid pace, my camera forgotten in the passenger's seat. The air was pleasantly chilly for a midsummer's morning, the rocky sand lukewarm under my feet as I very nearly sprinted along the shoreline, tracing the steps I'd taken what seemed like a lifetime ago. I knew exactly where I was headed, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was hoping to find there.

Actually, no, that's a lie.

The day I was currently living in was near identical to the one where I'd first seen Marco on the rocks, and a small part of me that I couldn't seem to beat down had my heart racing in my chest with the hope that Marco was just as stupidly sentimental as me.

As I ran, a formation of rocks jutting out of the sea came into view through the curtain of fog, and at that familiar sight my legs kicked into maximum overdrive. I was determined to get to the boulders before anyone- before he- could hear me coming, praying the sound of the waves crashing in between them concealed the crunching of my feet until it was too late. 

The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the rocks, huffing and puffing, my heart hammering in my chest, was the color red.

It wasn't the red of Marco's scales, or the rosy tint to his skin, it was a deep crimson that dripped down the rocks and soaked into sand below.

It was blood.

Slowly, very slowly, my eyes followed the trail of blood up to the top of the rocks, extremely frightened of what I would find up there. And rightly so, I might add, because as soon as I laid eyes on the huddled bloody mass atop the rocks, the meager contents of my stomach almost came back for a second appearance.

“M-Marco?” I whispered, his name just a breath across my lips.

Before me lay Marco's body, crumpled and bloody across the rocks. His already red tail was stained yet a deeper color, his freckles completely obscured by the thick fluid, his dark hair matted and stuck across his forehead. Most of the right side of his body seemed to be utterly torn apart from his shoulder down to his hip bone, with lacerations spreading even farther in either direction, but it was hard to see how extensive the damage really was, seeing as how the amount of his skin covered in blood far out numbered the expanses that remained unstained.

Worst of all, a large majority of his right arm was nowhere to be seen, all that was left near the site was an amassment of mangled tendons and cut off just above the place where his elbow should have been.

It would have been a gruesome experience regardless of the victim, but the fact that it was Marco that lie broken and bleeding before me, that made it al the more gut-wrenchingly horrifying.

“MARCO!” his name ripped it's way through my throat as I scrabbled up the rock face, arms reaching to get a hold of him, to cradle his face in my hands, chanting his name over and over as I tried to look for any signs that he was still alive. “Marco “Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco please, Marco, Marco.” 

A ragged breath shuttered through Marco's torso, alerting me to the shallow rise and fall of his ribcage, assuring me that he was in fact still alive. My words came out in a fast panic, knowing that regardless of the fact that Marco was breathing now, with the amount of blood he was losing I had no idea how much longer he could last. “Marco, Marco please look at me. Marco, please, Marco I need you to open your eyes, say my name, let me know that you can hear me, please, please.”

Marco's body shivered in my arms, a small noise escaping from his mouth before he broke into a coughing fit.

“Marco?!”

“J...Jean...” His voice came out hushed and gravely, but it was there, and that was all I needed. “Jean... you're here...”

“Marco, of course I'm here. Just please, please stay with me okay? I'm figure out how to help you.”

“Jean, it hurts...” came his broken whimper, and my heart shattered.

“I know Marco, I know, it's going to be okay. I'mm make it stop hurting. We're going to get you to a hospital.” I said quickly, smoothing my hands over his face in what I hoped was a calming manner.”Marco, I need you do do something for me, okay? I need you to listen.”

Marco hummed a quiet affirmation, his left eye opening to look up at me.

“Marco, I need you to shed your sea-skin, okay? I can't take you anywhere with you still flipping your fins, okay? If you shed your skin I can take you to the hospital, and we can take care of you and you're going to be okay, okay?” My voice was shaking, breaking as I choked out the last part, “I'll take care of it this time, I promise.”

“...Jean...No...”

My eyes widened, tears streaming down my face, “What do you mean, 'no'?! Marco, I can't let you die out here, just shed your damn skin so I can get you some help!”

“Jean,” Marco's breathing was becoming evermore labored, “I don't... I don't want...you to have....to... be bound to me...again.”

“Marco, you idiot!” I cried, bringing my face down to rest my forehead on his, tears slipping from my face to his, wiping clean streaks across his blood-soaked skin, “We can figure out a way for you to get free after you're all fixed up, so please! Let me save you!”

“I don't want...you to have...to spend your life stuck with...me. I...I don't want...to be the source of...your unhappiness.”

My eyes shot open, then suddenly understanding his thought process. “Marco... don't you dare think for a second that I would rather you die than be bound to you. You're the one constant source of happiness that I have in this world, don't you ever doubt that.” I was sobbing then, not entirely sure my garbled words were even intelligible at that point. “Being stuck with you for the rest of my life would be nothing short of the most immense pleasure anyone could offer me. So Marco, please, I'm begging you, shed your skin for me.”

Marco's one eye slipped closed then, his neck deciding it could no longer support the weight of his head and letting its full weight rest in my hands.

“Marco?” I moved a hand on his shoulder lightly, trying to shake him into consciousness as if he were just taking a nap, “Marco, please, you have to stay with me!”

There was no response, not even a whisper.

“Marco, you can't do this to me.”

Nothing.

“Marco, please.” I sobbed.

My words were met with no response save for the sound of the waves crashing to the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hurt because I love.
> 
> Just remember: Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger.


	8. In Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things are made clear.

It was about two painfully long days of waiting until Marco showed any real signs of life aside from breathing once I'd pulled him off the beach and raced him to the hospital and into surgery.

The consecutive surgeries alone that he's been put through to stop the bleeding and close up his gaping wounds took around eight hours, and from there whether or not he was going to make it through was entirely up in the air until his vitals stabilized some agonizing hours later. Even when Marco began to come to the first few times, he wasn't conscious enough to really speak, let alone recognize my face. A few confused mumbles and he was out again in no time, all the anesthetics they were pumping into him fully taking effect. I wasn't really aware of the time passing anyway, since I kept the curtains closed and there were always lights on in the hospital. Seeing as I was Marco's only known relation, they let me stay by his side full time, and I refused to leave him for any extended period, only leaving once to go home and tell my mom what had happened and where I was staying. The only times I slept was for short periods in the chairs by Marco's bedside, sometimes holding his IV covered hand in mine as I drifted off, just in case he did wake up so I wouldn't miss it.

When he finally did wake up a day or so later, it was very slowly. I was holding his hand then, and I felt a gentle pressure at first, then tighter as a moan left his lips. This had happened several times before, usually false alarms, so I wasn't hoping for much at that point, but then he spoke a single word:

“...Jean?”

My head snapped up, looking over his face just in time to watch his one fluttering eye train itself on me. “Marco? Are you really awake this time?”

“I...I think I am.” He looked confused for a second, the parts of his face I could see crumpling in confusion, “Where are we?”

“The hospital.” I replied patiently, I'd been expecting that.

His eye widened, “Why?”

This one stunned me momentarily, “You... don't remember?”

“I...no? Maybe?” His bandaged face fell into a pout, “I.... I remember I was in the ocean, swimming...there was a fishing boat and...they had a shark caught in their lines. It happens all the time around here, and I knew they didn't want him in there as much as he wanted to be caught up in the net, so I tried to get him out and...” He was quiet for a short time before shaking his head as best he could, “I don't really remember after that. There was the shark and then everything just hurt and...”

He stopped suddenly, his eye widening once more and his face turning towards mine, “And you were there. I remember seeing you.”

“Yeah,” I said gently, squeezing his hand lightly, “I was the one who found you.”

Marco's voice was quiet then, timid, as he asked the big question: “What happened to me?”

I took a deep breath, “Well, you got pretty roughed up. When I found you, you were up on the rocks all battered and bloody and barely conscious. I tried to get you out of your sea-skin so I could take you to the hospital, but you were stupidly resistant about it.” I rolled my eyes, “Really, you were sitting there bleeding out in my arms because you were more worried about me being stuck with you again than the fact that you were dying.”

My lips pursed and I swallowed hard as I came up on the next part of the story, the part that I'd been having nightmares about every time I closed my eyes for too long, even here with Marco safely by my side, “I really thought I'd lost you at one point. You finally clocked out and your heart was beating so slow I really thought you were going to die right then and there. Luckily, once you fell unconscious, your sea-skin pretty much fell right off of you, and I carried you back to my car.”

“The doctors told me once they got you out of surgery that you'd been attacked by a shark, a mako by the looks of it. Apparently they're not usually dangerous to humans unless they're provoked or agitated, which I guess it must have been by the fishermen or something. They said if I'd been ten, maybe even five minutes later in getting you here, you probably wouldn't have pulled through, you'd lost so much blood. Even after you were here there was a while where they were telling me you might not make it-”

My voice cracked then, and Marco released my hand and reached up to touch my face, to wipe away a tear that I hadn't realized had fallen.

“It's okay, Jean. I'm okay now.”

I looked over at his face, so sincere and concerned, concerned for me of all people right now, I almost didn't have the heart to tell him the worst part of it.

But I had to.

“You're...not totally okay Marco.” I said slowly.

“What do you mean?”

I swallowed hard, “The shark...it must have happened before I'd gotten there but... Marco, when I found you, your right arm was gone about the elbow, just gone, and the rest of it was so mangled from the teeth that the doctors had to take off even more of it, they stopped just below the shoulder.” Marco just stared at me in silence, so I kept going before I lost my nerve.“It also apparently tried to take a bite out of your skull, the doctors said it must have just grazed you though because he didn't fracture your skull or anything. However...your right eye has been damaged, and they're not sure whether or not you're going to be able to see out of it again. Along with that, you've got a million billion stitches and a couple fractured ribs.”

Marco's hand drifted from where it had frozen on my face to his bandaged shoulder, trailing down across what was left of his arm and back up until he reached his face, gingerly touching his face as thought it would break under his fingertips if he pressed too hard, his mouth making a small 'O' shape.

“Marco?” I asked gently.

“Okay.” He said, dropping his hand to his lap.

“Okay? Okay what?”

Marco shrugged, “I mean...I guess theres nothing I can do about it, right? I made the mistake of messing with an agitated shark, I paid the consequences. Don't get me wrong this is really upsetting and all, I mean I lost a whole arm and part of my face and I kind of just want to curl up in a ball and cry but...if what you said is correct, I'm lucky to be alive. Which reminds me...” His big brown eyes turned up towards me, holding my gaze in his own. “Thank you for saving me.”

I leaned forward and placed my lips on his uncovered brown, pressing gently before leaning back, “Of course, Marco. I'd do anything for you.”

He looked stunned by my words, “But I thought-”

I held up a finger to shush him, “I think we both thought some things that weren't true. The fact of the matter is, I love you. I really, really love you, Marco. And if you don't want to be bound to me, we can find a way for you to take back your sea-skin, but Marco...I would love nothing more than to be bound to you, if you'll take me.”

“Jean...” Marco breathed, staring up wide eyed at me before a wry smile worked its way across his lips and he settled back against his pillows, “So where is my sea-skin then?”

My returning grin was almost so big it hurt, “Somewhere you'll never find on your own.”

“Good.” He said, letting out a contented sigh. “Now, bring your big goofy face down here so I can kiss you.”

I rolled my eyes but complied all the same, leaning down to rest a hand on either side of him before dipping down to capture his lips with mine.

And the moment our lips touched, it was just the same as it was the first time we'd made contact on the beach what seemed like so long ago. A slow warmth seemed to seep through my body, golden and sweet like honey, that little invisible cord that bound us thrumming along to our heartbeats. Even when we pulled back to breathe I found I couldn't keep myself away, with his arm looped around my neck,my lips peppered kisses across his exposed jaw and down his left side to the dip of his collarbone and back again, allowing him just enough time to recover before my mouth was on his once more. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt perfect.

It was only when Marco let out a small moan that my eyes shot open and I remembered where we were, and what kind of state Marco was in.

As I pulled back I realized I had been leaning down ever so slightly on his chest, most likely causing his broken ribs a fair amount of pain; at least, that's what I thought Marco's moan meant. However, as soon as Marco felt me moving away he let out a small indignant whine, which alerted me to the fact that it may have not been pain making those sounds come out of Marco's mouth.

Chuckling lightly, I placed a quick peck on his cheek, “Marco, you're still in pretty bad shape, if we keep this up you're only going to end up hurting worse.”

“No,” Marco insisted, a pout sliding across his features, “Your kisses make me feel better, I don't hurt at all.”

“That's not the kisses, you dolt, that's the pain meds they're pumping you full of.” I laughed, “Speaking of, I'm going to go get a doctor in here. They should know that you're finally awake so they can check you out and stuff.”

No sooner had I gotten up to press the call button than Marco's hand was closing tightly around my wrist, holding me back.

“You're not going to leave me, are you?”

I turned and lightly encased his hand in my own, bringing it to my lips and pressing gentle kisses along his knuckles. “I'm not going anywhere, Marco. I've been by your side for days now, and I'm not leaving this hospital until you're walking out with me.”

At my words, Marco's grip softened and let me go to the bedside panel, pressing the button to call in a nurse.

“Where have you been sleeping all this time?”

Once I tilted my head toward the chairs in the corner, Marco let out a horrified gasp, “No! I'm not letting you sleep on those things while I' here in this massive bed. You're going to be sleeping right here with me from now on.”

I shook my head, “As wonderful as that sounds, I don't think the doctors would approve of that.”

Marco pouted, “I don't care what the doctors say, I'm the patient and you're sleeping right here next to me, end of story.”

My reply was cut off before it could begin by a lovely little blonde nurse walking into the room with a cart full of charts and bottled medications.

“I so glad to see you awake, Marco.” Christa said, a sweet smile gracing her soft features, “You had us very worried for a while, especially the one standing beside you.”

“So I've been told.” Marco replied with a smile, “It's nice to see you again, Christa. I didn't know this was the hospital you were interning at.”

“You guys know each other?” I chimed in.

Christa turned towards me, “Yes! We met at that bonfire at the beginning of summer. Marco here was the life of the party.”

“Oh, stop. That's not true.” Marco interjected.

“Don't be so modest, you're very personable. Everyone said so.” Christa insisted, “Now, let me do my job here.” Marco waved his hand in a gesture for her to proceed, not that she needed it. “So, I'm sure Jean has given you a basic rundown, but your little run-in with that shark pretty much amputated your arm without any assistance from us, but we've patched it up nicely and if you'd like we can hook you up with a prosthetic in your physical therapy later on. Aside from that, you're face got roughed up pretty bad, causing temporary blindness and most likely permanent damage, along with three fractured ribs. We've got you on monitored anesthesia care, so you'll probably be feeling pretty drowsy for the next couple days until you're recovered enough to be taken off and given prescriptions so you can go home. A doctor will be in with you shortly if you're still awake to discuss the details a little later. Until then, i'm going to fix up your drip and I'll leave you two to catch up, alright?”

“Sounds great, Christa, thank you.” I said.

“You'd better say anything you need to quickly though, once I get his drip set up again he's going to be out for a little while.”

“Jean, come lay with me.” Marco said, attempting to shift himself over and patting the bedsheets beside him.

I looked to Christa to see if I had permission, but she simply rolled her eyes before continuing on with her task at hand. “I'm finished here, I'll see you dorks later, okay?” She said with a wink.

“Thank you Christa.” Marco said with a sigh, alerting us to the fact that the drugs had begun working again. Christa smiled and walked out, closing the door behind her.

“How're you feeing now, champ?” I asked with a smirk.

“'M feeling great.” Marco replied, his eyelids already beginning to flutter. “Come, lay.”

“Alright, alright, I'm coming.” I said, taking his hand in mine and gently laying down beside his bandaged body.

“You're stayin', right?” he mumbled, doing his best to curl toward me, setting his gauzy head on my shoulder.

Kissing the top of his head before letting my head rest atop his mop of head, still matted and sticking up funny because of the days asleep, “I promised I would, didn't I?”

“Mhm...” he hummed in reply, before falling silent for long enough that I started to think he was asleep. Just before I was about to try and fall asleep myself, I heard a soft mumble into my neck.

“What was that?”

“My mate...” He sighed, his lips brushing my collarbone, “I...found my mate...”

I snorted softly, kissing his hair once more. “Yeah, Marco, you did. And I'll be here by your side as long as you'll have me, so go to sleep.”

Marco hummed something unintelligible again, but I wasn't sure whether it was a reply or a drug-induced murmur. In fact, I wasn't even certain he;d heard my words at all, but it didn't really matter.

Marco was here, safely resting in my arms, where he would be staying for a very long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end of our little journey together. It's been fun writing this fanfic, and seeing all your wonderful feedback to it, I still can't believe the amount of hits this thing has gotten, really it boggles my mind! Thank you all for checking out this story, and for all your support, I really hope this ending is everything you hoped it would be.
> 
> (Side note, keep your eyes open because I just miiiiight add on an epilogue chapter in the near future, seeing as theres a few more events I wanted to slide in but didn't have the chance to, like Jean meeting Marco's human mother and whatnot. So if you're interested, stay tuned!)


	9. The Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn of Jean's fears, how Marco came to be, and the end and the beginning of a beautiful story.

As my car sped down the side streets just outside of town, all the windows rolled down and speakers blaring, and I could feel the sweat appearing across my brow along with a few drops rolling languidly down my neck before soaking into the collar of my sleeveless shirt. I tried my best not to dwell on how gross and sticky it felt, instead focusing on trying to convince myself that it was the summer heat wave that had caused me to perspire, and not the anxiety fluttering wildly in my stomach. Beside me, Marco sat sagging against the door of the passenger side, new prosthetic arm propped up in the space created by the rolled down window with his eyes closed and a serene smile settled upon his relaxed face.

Apparently sensing my eyes upon him, he looked over my way and observed my slightly flustered state with a frown. “Jean, you're not nervous about this, are you?” He asked, hand reaching to turn the music down a notch.

I wanted to lie, to say that I wasn't nervous at all and that it was just the heat making me break out in a cold sweat, but lying to Marco was hard, ridiculously so. Even the littlest of lies, ones I wasn't even fully conscious I was telling couldn't get past him, so instead of answering his question I offered him another one: “What makes you say that?”

Marco raised one eyebrow in an incredulous manner, “You've been gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles have turned white and you're beginning to look like Niagara Falls over there.”

“It's hot.” I pointed out.

Marco rolled his eyes at me, “Jean, will you please tell me what's bothering you? You were fine when we left the house.”

Letting out a defeated sigh, I figured it wasn't really worth hiding my feelings from him, especially when he would figure out how to dig them out of me one way or another.

“I can't imagine that they're going to like me much.” I said finally.

“My parents?” He asked, eyebrows pulling down in confusion, “Why wouldn't they like you?” 

I pursed my lips, afraid he wouldn't be too pleased with my answer. 

“Jean,” He said pointedly, “tell me.”

“Marco, you have to understand that most parents don't often take a shine to people who cause their children extensive bodily harm.” I said grimly.

I could hear Marco stiffen beside me, feeling his sad gaze upon my face that I didn't want to put there.

“Jean...” he started.

“I'm serious Marco, what kind of parents would welcome me into their home? How could they forgive the person who caused their only son to go off and lose his fucking arm? And that's not even taking the fact that you nearly died into account.” I snapped before pressing my lips into a tight line.

Marco swallowed hard and was quiet for a few seconds before he began speaking in a small, soft voice, “I didn't know that still bothered you.”

I nearly groaned, mentally kicking myself for being the cause of the hurt tone in his voice. “It's not something I'm particularly fond of talking about, especially when it makes you upset to hear it.”

“I don't blame you for what happened to me Jean, I told you that. It was my own mistake that led to this,” he said, sweeping his left arm across his body to gesture towards his scarred face and prosthetic limb, “not yours.”

“If it wasn't for me being a giant asshole you wouldn't have been anywhere near that shark.” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Jean,” Marco said sharply- if I had the nerve to tear my eyes away from the road I probably would have seen him glaring at me. “If it hadn't been for you I would still be in the ocean and most likely would have met the same fate anyhow. Moreover, if it hadn't been for you finding me after that shark tore me to shreds, I would have died out there on those rocks.” He reached his hand over to pry one of mine off the steering wheel, carefully uncurling the stiff fingers before lacing them together with his own. “What happened to me was not your fault, Jean. It was me who decided to go back into the ocean, and it was me who decided to engage an irritated mako.” He paused for a moment, gripping my hand just a bit tighter, before continuing in a gentler voice, “You were the one who came and saved me, Jean. I owe my life to you.”

“I told my parents everything, too, from start to finish. I didn't leave anything out.” Marco continued, “I told them about that stupid look on your face when I told you about merfolk, and how you took me in without any persuasion. I told them about our first kiss, and the dates you've taken me on. I told them about our fight, and waking up in the hospital to you holding my hand. They know everything about everything that's ever happened between us, and they can't wait to meet you, I promise.”

I let out a sigh in defeat and Marco leaned over the arm rest to press a light kiss to my jawbone. “They're going to love you, because I love you. Now take a right here, we're almost there.”

It wasn't long after that before Marco directed me to pull into the driveway of a relatively average two-story house with a wrap-around porch and a light baby-blue paint job which Marco said must have been done after he left about a year back. It was a very cosy looking place, like something out of a movie, and it wasn't hard to imagine a young Marco tumbling about the expanses of the front lawn with parents in tow, cheeks a ferocious red, and laughing all the way. As I killed the engine, I quickly removed myself from the car and rushed to the passenger side door to open it for Marco.

“Always the gentleman, aren't you?” Marco laughed lightly, taking my extended arm and allowing me to haul him up and close the door behind him. “Are you still nervous?”

“Only as much as any normal person would be meeting his boyfriend's parents for the first time.” I replied, giving him a sidelong glance.

He simply smiled in response, rubbing soothing circles into my hand with his thumb as we approached the front door, painted white with a well-worn welcome mat out in front. Marco looked at me expectantly as we placed our feet over it and stood waiting for several moments, and I quirked a questioning eyebrow in response.

“You're either going to have to let go of my hand or ring the doorbell yourself.” Marco said jokingly, shifting his prosthetic arm for effect.

“Oh, right.” I murmured, raising my left index finger to press in the small button beside the doorframe, listening silently as the bell rang from somewhere inside. 

It couldn't have been more than a three seconds before the sound of hurried footsteps came from the other side of the door, running quickly down a flight of stairs and growing progressively louder until stopping right behind the door. Not a moment later the door was thrown open to reveal a small woman with chestnut hair falling across her shoulders in disarray, panting heavily and staring wide-eyes up at the both of us before breaking out into a grin and throwing herself onto Marco with a squeal. Marco had to take a step back to steady himself before releasing my hand to wrap his arm around her torso in a tight hug.

“Marco!” She screeched, her arms looped tight about his neck and eyes screwed shut in delight, “My baby boy! I missed you so much!”

“Hi Mom,” Marco said, apparently unaffected by her displays of affection, “It's good to see you.”

“Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” Pulling back slightly, Marco's mother took one hand and brought it up to cup Marco's left cheek, not hesitating to brush her fingertips over the scars that traveled across the plains of his face, her smile never wavering. “Look at you, you've grown into such a fine young man, haven't you?”

“I've only been gone for a year, Mom.” Marco said, rolling his eyes but grinning all the same.

“Well, if you didn't want me fawning over you, you shouldn't have stayed away for so long.” She said, swatting his cheek teasingly.

“Some stuff came up.” Marco replied with a smile, his eyes flicking towards me.

As if noticing my presence for the first time, Marco's mother turned her caramel eyes towards me, “You must be Jean,” she said with a warm smile, and I couldn't help but notice the way her tongue cradled my name in the same way Marco's did. “It's nice to finally meet you, Marco's told me quite a bit about you.”

I could feel the blush rising to my cheeks as I tried not to imagine all the stupid things Marco might have told her-he did say he had told his parents everything after all. Regardless, I offered her what I hoped was a winning smile of my own and replied earnestly: “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bodt. Thank you for having me.”

Marco's mother pouted momentarily, and I wondered what I had done to offend her with so few words, but before I had the chance to ponder for long she unwrapped one arm from around Marco and instead held it outstretched towards me.

“No need to be so formal, Jean. So long as your here, you're as good as family,” She said with a smile, “now get over here so I can properly welcome you in.”

A smile slid effortlessly onto my face, and before I knew it both Marco and his mother had an arm around me in a monstrously tight hug. I wanted time to stop for a short while so that I could take some time to reveal in this complete and utter acceptance I was being shown, but all too quickly Marco moved away, leaning back to place a swift peck on my cheek before releasing me from his grip, saying, “Welcome home, Jean.” before lacing his fingers between mine and ushering me into the house.

 

The Bodt household was a lovely place to be.

Even aside from the wonderful family it contained, the house itself was the epitome of what a home environment should feel like. It was so different from my own home, and yet I felt instantly at ease the moment I stepped through the doors. The living room we entered in was painted a light hazelnut, with a near-white beechwood panelling- somewhat dull and well-worn- beneath our feet. The furniture was rustic and comfortable- very much unlike the modern style my mother had tried to employ in our own household. A cracked leather couch and loveseat combo sat catty corner to one another against the wall to the left of the entrance, a slightly distressed coffee table sitting low to the ground in front of them, covered in colorful sea glass and bleached coral pieces contained in a few strategically placed Mason jars. Photographs lined the walls, but instead of artistically inclined landscaping and aesthetic imagery in a monochromatic format, every single picture contained full-colored individuals I could only assume belonged to this family in some way or another. Across the way a white brick fireplace sat unused in the summer, and where I could only assume actual fires were built during the winter months, instead the space was filled to the brim with a surplus of books of every shape and size, with the main bookshelf sitting completely filled beside it. Though the floor was indeed hardwood, a large portion of it was covered in a plush white shag area rug, feeling so soft under my feet that I very nearly forwent sitting upon the couches and instead curling up right there on the carpet.

Disney World had nothing on this place- this was the happiest place on earth.

Marco's mother, Colleen, as she insisted I call her, hurried us inside, and it was there that I had the pleasure of meeting Marco's father- a tall, muscular man with a deep tan, dark brown eyes, and long tussled hair so black it looked blue. Between that and his deep tremulous voice, I was slightly intimidated by the man, especially when his hands swallowed mine in a vice-like grip to shake hands. However, when I looked up into his deep set eyes, they were soft and kind like Marco's, twinkling as he welcomed me into his home. Aside from those few short words, Marco's father didn't say much, but he was far from stoic. When his wife entered the room once more his eyes lit up before he took her small form into his arms, kissing her temple as they sat down on the couch together before resting his head atop her nest of hair and smiling contentedly. A moment later, Colleen gestured for us to come and sit with them as well, Marco took my hand and led me to sit on the couch opposite to them, kicking his shoes off and folding his legs underneath him before nestling into my side. I myself was sitting with perfect rigidity until I felt one of Marco's arms slip behind me and draw gentle patterns into my shoulder blades to ease my tensed muscles.

For a while our conversations focused around Marco and his current endeavors. Even though it hadn't been more than a week since Marco had called home, Colleen insisted that Marco was neglecting her by not calling her as soon as he got off from his first day of work and telling her every detail. At this, Marco simply laughed and apologized earnestly before recalling his first day working at the local animal boarding center. I'd heard it all before, how excited he was to get to take care of and play with the animals, even though his main job entailed taking calls and filing reservations and such, so eventually my thoughts began to drift off until a nagging question entered my mind. 

"How did you find out about all this magical mermaid stuff, Colleen?" I wondered aloud.

Marco's mother looked at me with a smile and a knowing look in her eyes, as if she had been waiting for me to ask, which, in retrospect, she probably had been. It wasn't exactly something you could talk about with any old person, she probably was eager to tell someone her story outside of their little family.

"I was a life guard on the beach down by the docks for a couple summers when I was in college- it was my job to make sure kids didn't do anything stupid like drown each other or swim out past the buoys. And one day, I see this punk," She laughed, playfully jabbing a finger into her husband's chest, "waaaaaay out there in the waves. College frat boys always made stupid bets on who could swim out the farthest and all, so I ran out into the water and blew my whistle and yelled and waved my arms all around to usher him back to shore. I could see how mortified he was about getting caught, and for a second I thought he was going to try to run- or swim- away, but he seemed to think better of it and brought himself in. When he finally got to shore, dragging a weird looking towel in with him, I totally chewed him out. I think I was having a bad day, it was hot, and I didn't want to deal with another college kid thinking that just because I was a girl I wouldn't kick his ass. I was so mad I even banished him from the beach for the day." She laughed again, as Mr. Bodt took her small hand in his, smiling warmly down at her.

"He shows up again early the next day and he comes up to my chair and says his name is Nikhil and he'd like to apologize for the trouble he'd caused- he even hands me a cream filled donut and a caramel frappuccino. And of course, right then and there, I'm smitten. I ask if he wants to meet up after my shift and get a late lunch somewhere and long story short we end up dating. On our anniversary three years later, he's looking all nervous and fidgety and I think to myself, 'this is it, he's going to propose to me,' except instead of pulling out a ring he pulls out this shimmering cloth and I'm totally lost. I reach out to take it, thinking maybe he wrapped the ring in it or something, and before I can touch it he pulls it back and tells me to wait because if I take it now we're going to be bound together forever, and me, thinking this is his roundabout way of proposing, I say, that's exactly what I want, and take the cloth from him before he can take it back."

"Now he's just standing there looking horrified and at that point I demanded he tell me what was going on because he was supposed to be elated that I accepted his proposal and he was kind of killing my buzz. So he sat me down and told me everything, I could tell the whole time he was expecting me to bolt, but I waited until he was finished and told him that I already said yes so as long as he was willing to put up with my crazy tendencies then I would be willing to put up with him being part fish,”

Marco's father chuckled, or at least that's what I took the rumbling emanating from his chest to mean, before leaning down to kiss the top of his wife's head. 

“So, Jean, what's your story like? How did you react to Marco?” Colleen asked.

'Hasn't...Marco told you?” I replied, somewhat surprised by the question.

“Well, yes, sort of. When Marco first called to check in after everything had happened, it had been a few weeks since he had last called and so there was a lot of catching up to do, we spent more time talking about if he was okay and how he was doing and if you were taking care of him and all that than the details of how you met.” She replied, “And aside from that, I want to hear it from your perspective.”

I hummed an affirmation, and Marco (who had taken to resting his head on my shoulder for the duration of his mother's story,) looked up at me expectantly. He'd never really heard me recant the details of our meeting or how I felt during the whole experience, only that I repeatedly told him that I was glad to have happened upon his scales and wound up stuck with him, so he was probably excited to hear the story from my perspective as well.

“Uh... Well, I'm sure you heard the part about my being at the beach because of a party, right? Except I'm not really good with trying to socialize in a setting like that, so I wandered off down the shoreline on my own for a while to collect myself or something when suddenly I felt a shooting pain in my left foot and collapsed to the ground. I see this shimmering table-cloth-looking thing sitting next to me, and just as I start to wonder how the hell I had managed to cut my foot on a piece of fabric, I look up to find this freckled kid,” I said, nudging Marco softly with my elbow, “standing over me with an expression you'd see on someone who had just witnessed an exorcism. I could see him trying to hold it together, which he was doing a terrible job of, so I tried to play it off like it was no big deal- I wasn't really that hurt anyway. Except it turns out he wasn't really worried about me, he was worried about the table cloth I was holding that I had just gotten blood all over, so I tried to give it back and everything but he wasn't having that.”

“The next thing I know, he's sitting beside me telling me about how he's a mermaid and I'm holding his scales and now we're magically bound together and there's pretty much no way out of it. At that point I should probably have flat out laughed in his face because his story was so ridiculous there's no way anyone should have believed it- except that I knew he was telling the truth because I'd already seen him. I already had a poorly shot photo of him in all his scaly glory saved on my phone as he spoke.”

The weight of Marco's head on my shoulder was gone in an instant as he shot up to stare at me, eyes wide and jaw slightly ajar, “You what?”

I cast Marco a confused sideways glance for a moment. I was unsure of what caused his outburst for a solid thirty two seconds before it finally clicked in my head: I'd never told him about the time I'd seen him on the beach on the morning of the day we were bound.

“Oh, right, I actually forgot all about it until I started talking.” I said sheepishly, “Um... the day we were bound wasn't actually the first time we met. I mean, we did meet that day but not at that time. It was, uh, early morning and I drove out to the beach to take some photographs of the fog and stuff and as I was walking along I saw you laying out on the rocks. I snapped a picture, but then you saw the flash and swam off.”

Marco blinked silently for a few seconds. “So that's why you just accepted everything I told you without a fight.”

“I mean, yeah, it was kind of hard to deny at that point.” I laughed, “Though for a few days I still expected someone to pop out at any moment with a camera crew and tell me I was being Punked.” Marco rolled his eyes at that, but smiled and droped his head on my shoulder once more.

“Do you still have the photo, Jean?” Colleen asked.

“Nah, it was a really bad picture. It was all blurry because I didn't focus it and the fog was interfering with the flash and everything. You can barely make out Marco at all, it was just proof for me that what I saw actually happened at the time. Once Marco and I were bound, I didn't really need the proof anymore- it's not like he'll be going anywhere anytime soon. At least, I hope not.”

Marco shifted slightly, and I felt his lips press lightly to my neck. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Marco, come here.” Nikhil's voice sounded from back in the living room. Marco and I had moved to the kitchen when his mother has suggested she start getting dinner ready, offering whatever help we could. 

As Marco walked through the doorway I turned to follow him out, but Colleen's voice stopped me: “Jean, I'd still like your help in here, if that's okay.” and as soon as Marco was out of earshot, she continued, “I want to talk about something with you.”

I looked back at her with an eyebrow quirked in a questioning manner, but instead of elaborating, she instead gestured to the bowl beside her that was filled with just-washed potatoes needing to be peeled. In relative silence, save for the low rumble of nondescript conversation emanating from the family room, I took a potato and the peeler in hand and began my assigned task. Beside me, Colleen placed a pan on the stove and filled with with water and a pinch of salt and olive oil while the gas fire blazed to life beneath it. Once she placed the lid atop the pan to let the water boil, she turned toward me, hip leaning on the counter and arms crossed over her chest.

“I'm not terribly good with putting things gently, Jean, so I'm going to straight with you, alright?” Colleen said; her voice was not unkind, but it was firm, and her gaze was steadfast.

“Sure. I mean, of course.” I replied, somewhat wary of where this conversation could be headed.

Colleen closed her eyes briefly and let her breath out in a gush before her eyes opened and look at me with a serious expression. “When Marco first called me after the shark attack, it was the first I had heard from him in a couple weeks and suddenly he was in the hospital missing an arm. When my baby boy called home and had to tell me that he nearly died that day, all I could think about was how it was all your fault- It was your fault that I almost never saw my son again. I thought to myself- Jean, stop!”

As soon as Colleen had said those words, the words that had been circling my head for months but I had been so afraid to hear aloud, something inside me shattered. I knew what I had done, but hearing it from the mouth of Marco's own mother was somehow even worse. However, at the sound of my name my eyes snapped back into focus, looking down at my hands still holding a potato and the peeler, noticing for the first time that I had failed to remove my thumb from the peeler's path as I raked it down the potato's skin and effectively ripping off some of my own in the process.

“Oh.” was all I could manage to say.

Colleen was quick to grab a dish towel and soak it in water before wrapping it around my thumb gently. “God, you scared me there, Jean. Be more careful!” I looked down at her as she took my cloth wrapped hand into her own before turning her head up towards me, a sad look on her face that made my heart twist. “Don't go hurting yourself now, just let me finish, alright? You need to hear this.”  
I simply nodded in response.

With a sigh, Colleen continued, “As I was saying, I thought to myself, 'this Jean boy ruined my baby's life, ruined his future.' I thought, 'I hate him.' And I thought this for a little while, until Marco called me again. See, the first time Marco had called, he said he had had a fight with you and ended up back in the ocean where he was attacked by a shark and he had been taken to the emergency room and now he was recovering minus one arm. He couldn't talk for long, he was barely conscious as it was, the first time around, but when his father and I drove down to visit him a few days later, that was when I got the whole story.”

“I thought what happened to Marco was your fault. I thought that if it hadn't been for you, my boy would still be safe with me and totally unharmed, but I know now that isn't true. As much as it pains me to admit, he probably would have wound up the same way one of these days regardless of if he had met you or not; the boy is just far too empathetic for his own good. When he was sitting in the hospital, he didn't regret his actions in the slightest, and he sure as hell didn't blame you for what had happened. If anything, he spoke of you almost reverently, as if you were his guardian angel.” Colleen looked my straight in the eye then, to make sure I was listening. When she was satisfied with my attentiveness, she spoke the next words with a small smile. “And I think maybe he was right. Jean Kirstein, you are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to Marco. You make him happy, you make him feel safe, and most importantly, you'e the reason he's still here with us today. If it weren't for you going out to look for him, you know as well as I do that he wouldn't have made it; you didn't take away his future, you gave him one. So thank you, Jean, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking care of my baby.”

She let go of my hand to wrap her arms all the way around me, hugging me tight to her small form. I was so stunned that I nearly forgot what a hug was or how you return one, but after a moment or two my arms found there way around her too, and we both stood there pretending not to acknowledge the tears sliding down each other's faces.

After an indefinite amount of time spent hugging, Colleen leaned away from the embrace to look up at me with a cheeky smile, “Well, since it looks like you bled all over what was supposed to be our smashed potatoes, it looks like we're going to have to find something else to be our side dish.”

I couldn't help but laugh in return.

 

Once the dishes were cleared, ice cream was eaten, and Marco's mother exhausted her mental question bank, it was well past ten at night and both Marco and I were fading fast. When the conversation found a lull, Marco told his mother that he had to get up early tomorrow morning for work, and that I was meeting with a prospective landlord tomorrow about our renting an apartment, so we had to get going before we both fell asleep right there on the couches. With a forlorn sigh, Colleen agreed that it was probably best we leave now before I was too tired to drive, and followed us to the door with her husband in tow. As I opened the door to leave, I turned back to give Marco's parents my sincerest thanks for welcoming me into their home and accepting me as Marco's boyfriend. Nikhil immediately stepped forward to firmly shake my hand and gave me a bit of advice on how to negotiate on our rent, while Colleen wrapped me up in a tight hug and told me not to keep her son away from her too long before turning to Marco and showering him in a torrent of affection. Between the onslaught of hugs and kisses, Marco assured his mother that we would be returning soon, and he would call her should anything come up in the meantime. Just before we exited, Marco's father placed a hand on his shoulder, and silently passed him with a small, flat white box with a smile, and Marco nodded his head in some sort of affirmation before turning and marching out towards the car.

As I opened the door to the passenger's side door to help Marco get comfortable, Colleen's voice called out from the entryway: “Now, you boys be safe! And you better remember your promise to me, Marco!” Marco simply sighed and with a tight smiled waved goodbye to his mother as the car roared to life.

Once we had exited the neighborhood and were well on our way home, I glanced over at Marco.

“So, are you going to tell me about the secret wisdoms your parents whispered to you in my absence?” I asked.

Marco, who had been looking out the window, seemingly snapped out of his quiet train of thought and looked at me with a puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, when your dad called to you while I was in the kitchen with your mom, and then that promise Colleen mentioned as we left.”

Marco looked down abruptly, and in the briefest of moments when the streetlights flashed across his face, I could see a tinge of red blooming up under the skin of his cheeks.

“I... um, can it wait until we get home? It's not something I want to say while you're driving.” He said quietly, averting my gaze.

“Sure.” I shrugged, reaching over to turn the radio on to fill the silence. As curious as I was, I could wait until we got home so long as I was assured I would be getting an answer.

The rest of the car ride was spent with minimal conversation and comfortable silence between the two of us, just Marco humming quietly along to a few of the songs that came across the airwaves every so often until we pulled into my driveway, where I promptly killed the ignition, unbuckled my seatbelt, and shifted my body to face Marco to give him my full and undivided attention.

“So... the secrets?”

“Well, uh, right, so, my dad was just telling me about the tradition I still had to preform since I've found my mate and plan on staying with you.” he said, looking down at the white box settled atop his lap.

“Which would be...?” I pressed.

“Um, h-he ga-ave” Marco stuttered before clearing his throat and trying again, “He gave me uh, this family heirloom. It's at least a couple generations old, passed down from father to son and all that. He said, um, that it's basically our version of an engagement ring.”

My eyes snapped open wide at the words, but I said nothing.

“I know how it sounds, Jean, and I honestly wasn't going to bring it up yet, especially since we haven't really talked about the whole getting married thing but my dad insisted on giving it to me since we were going to be moving into an apartment together.” Marco said in a rush. “I-if you don't want it I can just-”

“Ah, no, Marco, just... just tell me,” I stopped him, my voice quieter than I was expecting, “what's in the box?”

Swallowing loudly, Marco opened up the box and removed a small amount of white tissue paper before handing it over to me. Taking the box into my hands, I peered down inside and let out a soft gasp before reaching down to gingerly stroke the beautiful object nestled into the velvet fabric. It was some sort of pendent, made of a beautiful polished blue-gray stone in a sort of flattened teardrop shape, just larger than a quarter in size. The surface was carefully carved into a swirling pattern, with a set of symbols adorning the edges to act as a border of sorts.

“Ehto honm sa turon ehn olhn.” Marco murmured 

“What?”

“The symbols, that's what they say.” Marco replied, his fingertips tracing the carvings, “It's our language- it means, “My heart I found in you.”

I swallowed hard, passing the box back to Marco, my cheeks set aflame. As he took the box from my hands, I could see the crestfallen look cross his face, as though he had been rejected, so I quickly spoke up: “Will you... put it on me?”

“Jean...” Marco breathed, his eyes wide, “You don't have to-”

“I want it.” I said softly, turning my back to him and closing my eyes.

It was quiet for a few seconds before I heard the rustling of the fabric as Marco removed the necklace from it's box before shifting in his seat- I could feel his warm breath across the back of my neck as the cool stone settled just a few inches down form my collar bone, the contrasting temperatures sending a shiver down my spine. When I opened my eyes and shifted back, Marco's face had stayed where it was, his nose brushing against mine for a moment before he dipped in and captured my lips with his.

The kiss was short, sweet, and when Marco pulled away, he rested his forehead on mine with a low hum of satisfaction and his eyes closed. 

“What was it you said? 'Eat-o homes tooran in oum?'”

Marco laughed gently, pecking my lips, “Close enough.”

“I love it.”

“I love you.”

“It's a good thing my mom isn't home this weekend because I don't know how I would even begin to tell her that I got proposed to tonight.” I said with a smirk, moving back and opening the door to get out.

“You think she'll be okay with it?” Marco asked as I rounded the car towards his side.

Wrenching the door open, I said, “Marco, you know her, she's going to want to plan an actual ceremony and everything. I don't even think the anti-gay marriage laws would have stopped her if they were still around.”

Marco laughed, taking my extended hand, “You're probably right.”

“Speaking of moms, what was that promise Colleen was talking about when we left?”

As we approached the front door, the porch lights illuminated Marco's face, once again showing faint blush glowing beneath his freckles.

“She made me promise that now that we were settling down and I was going to propose that she would be getting some grandkids soon.”

I raised an eyebrow as I unlocked the door. “I hope she knows that two men are incapable of producing offspring together.”

Marco lightly smacked my chest before closing the door behind us, “Oh shut up, she means adopted kids. I came out to her when I was like thirteen, she's had a lot of time to think this through. She said, and I quote, “gay or not, I will be getting grandchildren, do you hear me?'”

“You know, I never really thought about having kids. I'd probably be a terrible father.”

“Well, we've got time to figure it out, there's no hurry.” Marco said, putting his hands on either side of my face to bring me in for another sweet kiss. I let myself melt into it a little this time, wrapping my arms around his torso to hold him close to me until Marco pulled himself away, once more resting his head on my shoulder and humming in that contented way he often did. “But for what it's worth, I think you would make a great dad.”

At those words, a scene began to run through my mind, of Marco and I sitting on a porch in front of a house not unlike the one Marco had grown up in. I never really considered myself a 'family man,' someone who was going to settle down with a nice house and some kids, but in my head I could perfectly visualize this tiny house with a huge front yard, fenced in to keep not only a dog but also two toddling children from wondering off. I couldn't help but picture the children as looking something like us- a strapping young boy with dark and unruly hair, and a smaller girl with caramel colored eyes and a smile that could light up a room, a dusting of freckles across each of their faces. I was well aware that the children would end up with would ultimately look nothing like either one of us, but I wasn't terribly fussed about it. We would end up loving them regardless.

“You look far away,” Marco said quietly, cupping a hand to my cheek, “What are you thinking about?”

I looked down at the freckled boy I held in my arms, the boy I'd fallen in love with, and said with a smile, “I'm thinking about how I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all she wrote. 
> 
> over 25,000 words later, we've arrived at the official end of this story. I know this last chapter is less of a real chapter and more of a bunch of word vomit that ties up any loose ends, but I hope you like it nonetheless.
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for reading, for responding, and for keeping me motivated. I love you all to death. Especially Mo, my irl Marco and the reason this story came into being. <3
> 
> And in case you're wondering, Jean and Marco did end up adopting two kids, a boy with a hearing disability (they learned cued speech for him, and he thinks it's just to coolest thing because it's like they have their own secret family code,) named Kaden and a delicate little girl named Lydia who ended up having the cute little freckles Jean had hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to see more of my writing, art, or fandom related stuff, feel free to visit my blog, www.dafthappiness.tumblr.com


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